Waves of Grace
by Zivacentric
Summary: Established Zibbs & continuation of the "Revelations" universe. Begins about 6 months after "Honeymoon." Can you say Zibblet? :D Only chapters 14 & 15 are M. SPOILERS FOR "SHABBAT SHALOM" (10X11) IN THE A/N FOR CH 18.
1. Prologue

_By some twist of grace that felt nothing short of miraculous, they had a lifetime. ~ Revelations, Ch. 1 8_

* * *

Ziva and Gibbs lay in bed, her head pillowed on his chest. One of his arms was wrapped around her, his hand playing absently in her hair. He was reading an article in a woodworking magazine she'd impulsively bought for him recently, an issue that was dedicated to building furniture. She was hoping they would have need for some very specific pieces in the not-too-distant future.

"Remember, I have my yearly doctor's appointment tomorrow afternoon," Ziva interrupted him quietly, her fingers plucking at his t-shirt. If his focus hadn't been split between her and his reading material, he'd have noticed the tell that her nerves were running a little high.

"Mhm," he murmured vaguely.

She began drawing random patterns on his chest. Then, she cleared her throat gently.

"I was thinking of asking her about removing my IUD," she revealed softly, referring to the method of birth control they employed.

His heart thudded. She had his full attention now. He slowly laid the magazine and his reading glasses on his nightstand and then held onto her with both arms. Turning half-way, he rolled her onto her back so that he was pressed heavily against her, half-rising above her.

"You wanna use something else?" he asked carefully, his pulse quickening as his gaze searched hers.

"I do not wish to use anything at all," she admitted. The love that was so clear in her beautiful brown eyes was mixed with a healthy dose of vulnerability. Would he think it was too soon? They'd been together nearly three years, but only married for six months.

"Yeah?" he breathed. The dawning hope and exhilaration on his face and the emotion he delivered through his touch immediately settled her nerves.

She nodded, a feminine smile playing about her lips. Her hands slid from his chest around to his back, hugging him to her.

"I was hoping we could try making a baby," she spelled out for him. "Unless you want to wait, that is."

At the look in his eyes, her heart simply flew.

"Don't wanna wait," he answered, his voice husky with feeling.

"And I will try to keep my panic over whether I will be any good at mothering to a minimum," she added wryly, "but you might have to help with that."

He brought one hand up to cradle her head, his fingers spearing into her hair. Holding her gently, he kissed her, communicating everything he couldn't put into words with that one kiss.

"_You_ are going to be an amazing mother," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers.

"The only amazing parent in this house will be you," she demurred with a slight shake of her head. "But I want our family to include children and I would like to create them with you, if at all possible."

"Them? How many you want?" he asked, pressing a line of kisses along her jaw and making a mental note to come back to the issue of her parenting abilities. He knew she was seriously underestimating herself.

She shrugged lightly as she nuzzled his neck just below his ear. "I think two. How many do you want?"

"Two's good," he agreed, burying his face in her throat.

"Of course, perhaps we should get past the first one before making a final decision," she suggested with affectionate amusement, cupping his cheek and urging his face up to brush a kiss across his lips. Then, she pulled back far enough to stare into his gorgeous blue eyes.

"Good idea," he said softly, the adoration in his gaze giving way to heat. "Got another idea."

"Oh?" she drawled with a sexy smile, arching into him and wrapping her arms like silken ropes about his neck. "What is that?"

"Maybe we should practice the making part right now," he suggested, his voice dipping into a low rumble that triggered an avalanche of arousal throughout her body. His body relaxed more heavily into hers as his lips found that spot on her neck that never failed to make her gasp, make her melt.

"I learned very early in my Mossad training that one can never have too much practice," she approved breathlessly, happily allowing him to pull her under that tide of desire that was never far off between them.

_The next day …_

Gibbs pulled his phone out when it rang, his heart tripping when he saw it was Ziva. He was sitting at his desk at NCIS; Tim and Tony were working nearby at theirs.

"Hey," he answered warmly, softly, as he got up to move over to the large window, walking further down so he wasn't right by DiNozzo's desk. "Everything okay?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed. There was an underlying excitement in her voice that was impossible to miss. "The doctor removed the IUD and everything appears healthy. With that kind of birth control, she said we can start trying anytime." She paused for effect. "How about now?"

"Now?" he managed, visions of "trying" dancing in his head.

"It is almost the end of our shift, yes?" she pointed out. "Did we catch a case?"

"Nope," he answered in a relaxed tone that belied the delicious tension building inside him, not even sure he would have cared if they had.

"I am almost home." Her voice dropped to a naughty octave. "I could be waiting for you … in our bed … naked."

Gibbs turned to head back to his desk.

"I will even leave you a trail to make sure you find me," she offered seductively.

"Breadcrumbs?" he joked in an effort to keep his already-hardening body under control. Like he needed any help in tracking her down – he'd always find her.

"I was thinking more along the lines of the clothes I am wearing right now," she murmured in that tone that always short-circuited his ability to concentrate on anything but her.

He was behind his desk removing his badge and gun. On that visual of Ziva dropping her clothes on the way up the stairs to their room, he slammed the drawer closed decisively.

"On my way," he assured her, trying to sound nonchalant, but she didn't miss the huskiness – or the anticipation - in his tone.

Her provocative laugh floated into his ear. "See you there, Special Agent Gibbs."

Taking a page out of his book, she hung up.

Tony and McGee looked up as Gibbs clearly made ready to leave.

"You're in charge, Dinozzo," his boss said, rounding his desk.

"Heading out, Boss?" Tony asked the obvious in his surprise.

"Yep," Jethro confirmed. His voice was casual; his thoughts anything but. "See ya tomorrow."

Then he pictured what – _who_ – was waiting for him at home and he paused half-way to the elevator. Rethinking things, he tossed one word back over his shoulder.

"Maybe."

_TBC …_

* * *

_A/N: And so it begins ... the next installment of the Revelations universe. Thank you for continuing the journey with Ziva, Gibbs and me. :)_

_This comes with a special shout-out to srushton24 who messaged me about a month ago asking specifically for a continuation to this story. It warmed my heart to know you thought enough of this universe to initiate a PM about it, even while I had other postings going on. This has always been in the works; I simply wanted to finish "Brewed Awakenings" before beginning to post it. And then there's all that obsessive editing I do, of course. :p  
_

_And last, but certainly not least, this also comes as a birthday gift to my three favorite Bulls: iyimgrace, gosgirl and Bamacrush. I know you are all excited to see this continue, as well, and I am more than blessed to count you among my dearest friends. Love ya LOTS! =)_


	2. Kids and Cobbler

Ziva David Gibbs strode off the elevator at NCIS with a jaunty step that made her high ponytail bounce. She had a smile on her face and a pleasantly full – and blessedly _calm_ – stomach. This was shaping up to be a very good day, she thought to herself.

True, it had started off in less-than-stellar fashion with throwing up, but that had become her new normal most days despite the crackers she kept at her bedside to nibble on before even putting one foot out of bed. However, not only had she managed to keep down her breakfast after that, she'd also just had a very enjoyable girls-only lunch with Abby and the Caesar salad with grilled chicken that she'd eaten, accompanied by a banana-mango-yogurt smoothie, showed every sign of staying down, as well. _Woohoo._

"Good job, baby," she whispered, patting her tummy where her child was growing.

Three more weeks and she'd be at the end of her first trimester, she thought in amazement. She was anxious to reach that mark as she'd read that most miscarriages happen during these first twelve weeks. There was no indication that anything was wrong to substantiate her vague concern. It was just … every now and then she still had the errant thought that her life was too perfect and surely the other shoe would drop at some point.

She had never admitted it to Jethro, but she wouldn't even have been surprised if the universe had conspired to punish her for her misdeeds by making it difficult or even impossible for her to get pregnant – had half-expected it in the deepest shadows of her heart. She'd tried to console herself with the certainty that no one deserved to be a father again more than Jethro and the hope that surely he wouldn't be punished for her past and future failings. Fortunately, she'd gotten pregnant the second month they'd tried, which put that to rest, at least.

Today, though, was not overshadowed by any of the worries that sometimes came to visit. She spared a thought to wryly note how things had changed when all it took to brighten her day was a little less morning sickness – and she wouldn't have traded any of it for anything.

Despite the nausea and the bone-deep fatigue could suddenly hit at any given moment, Ziva loved being pregnant … loved knowing that she was carrying Jethro's child … loved the look on his face when she told him she wanted to try … loved the joy in his eyes when she'd told him they'd succeeded –in the midst of a conversation about twigs and berries, surprisingly enough.

They'd had one doctor's appointment so far when she was six weeks along and all was well. The nausea had hit hard early on and both she and Jethro had paled a little when the nurse had assured them it should settle down - by the third or fourth month.

Ziva had privately decided that whoever had coined the term "morning sickness" had been a man. She had morning sickness, all right – and afternoon sickness, evening sickness, any-time-of-day sickness. Whenever it was particularly bad, Jethro would hand her the copy of their ultrasound picture from that first doctor's visit, the one in which their baby looked remarkably like a lima bean with a heartbeat. That reminder – along with a few saltine crackers, ginger tea and her attentive husband – was all she ever needed for her mood to lift as her stomach settled.

There were some other bodily changes already happening, as well. Her breasts had been tender almost from the start and were already swelling enough that she would soon need a bra with a larger cup size. She couldn't deny being a little happy about _that. _Jethro had clearly never minded that she wasn't particularly well-endowed up top, but she wouldn't complain about being a little – or perhaps even a lot – more voluptuous for a while. The fit of her pants suggested she was starting to thicken a little around her middle right on schedule, though she wasn't showing yet so as anyone else could tell.

Ziva sat down at her desk, idly wondering where her three teammates were. The ping of the elevator sounded and the voices she heard the moment the doors slid almost silently open told her Tim and Tony had returned.

"Did not!"

"Did, too!"

"Did not!"

"Yeah, Tony, you did," McGee asserted firmly. "How else would you know that my grandmother is going to stay with me while her place is being renovated?"

"You must have told me," Tony tried.

"No, I didn't," Tim replied firmly.

Ziva shook her head with a small smile at their brotherly quibbling and looked up as the two guys went to their respective desks.

"Ziva, would you please tell McParanoid that I did _not_ read his e-mail?" Tony asked.

"Why would I do that?" Ziva asked. Her eyes took on a devilish twinkle. "You probably did – if you happened to catch his e-mail open while his security system was off."

Tony gave her his best crushed look and held a melodramatic hand over his heart. "E tu, Ziva?"

She snorted.

"See, Tony, even Ziva knows," McGee pointed out, feeling quite justified in his indignation.

Now it was Tony's turn to snort.

"Of course she does; she's getting as bad as Gibbs." He paused as though thinking that over. "Or would that be as good as Gibbs?"

"That's because she _is_ a Gibbs, DiNozzo," Jethro butted in as he rounded the partition beside Ziva's desk. "And it's definitely good."

Ziva looked up with a grin, absurdly pleased at his comment. Gibbs just kept walking to his desk, but his delightful half-smirk was playing about his lips. He tossed the coat he was carrying over his arm onto the unoccupied desk beside his.

"Where you been, Boss?" Tony asked. "Probie and I were going to see if you wanted to grab lunch with us since it was girls' day out."

Gibbs remained conspicuously silent, apparently engrossed in turning on his computer.

Ziva's gut started poking at her with a metaphoric finger, and this time it wasn't heralding an impending bout of nausea. She braced one elbow against the top of her desk and rested her chin on her fist, eyeing him thoughtfully. _Aha._

"So, how is Elaine today?" Ziva asked smugly, arching a brow as though daring him to deny he'd been to his favorite diner, probably for coffee with a side order of ham, eggs and hashbrowns.

Ziva actually would have gladly fixed at least something along those lines for him whenever he really wanted her to, but most cooking smells sent her running for the bathroom these days – just like when she'd tried to make beef stroganoff last night for dinner. She would tease him, but didn't blame him for going out for what he would call "real food" now and then.

Gibbs glanced down at his watch, then slowly turned his head toward his wife. Arching a brow of his own, his look clearly asked _Seriously? You got that in less than two minutes?_

Her look morphed from smug into teasingly triumphant.

Jethro heaved a sigh, then got up to retrieve a brown paper sack from under the coat he'd tossed on the extra desk. Shaking his head, he strode over and dropped it lightly on her desk. Ziva looked at it in surprise.

"Elaine says hello," he admitted, passing along the message from their favorite waitress, "and that if you guessed I'd been there in less than five minutes, you wouldn't have to share."

Ziva grinned and opened the sack to peer inside. After an appreciative sniff, she breathed, "Peach cobbler. Mmmm. Her desserts are beyond incredible and this is one of my favorites."

"Fresh out of the oven," he revealed. Then he offered magnanimously, "You know, if it's too much for your stomach, I could help ya out with that."

"Actually, my stomach has been behaving quite well today after that first early morning upset," she informed him with a grin. He smiled, glad to hear it – even if that meant he probably wasn't getting any dessert.

"Don't tell me you were actually betting against her figuring out you'd snuck out to the diner for something more than fiber twigs and rabbit food," Tony said to his boss in mock disbelief. "She may be married and knocked up now, but her ninja senses are still off the charts."

McGee grinned, but kept silent.

Ziva chuckled as Gibbs just gave his very special senior agent The Stare.

"Thank you, Tony," Ziva responded. Then she narrowed her eyes at him. "I think."

"Married and knocked up?" Gibbs asked in a deceptively neutral tone.

"Well, she is," Tony pointed out, fighting the urge to backpedal under that gaze – or grab a helmet for his head.

Gibbs just looked at him for another few seconds to make him squirm, then turned his eyes toward his computer as he spoke.

"Lucky guy that pulled that off," he deadpanned.

Ziva really laughed at that and threw him a wink as he looked over at her with a smirking version of his characteristic grin. She promptly decided he deserved some cobbler.

McGee didn't say a word, but his grin grew even larger.

Tony was almost taken aback. Gibbs normally made very few references to his personal relationship with Ziva while they were at work and now he'd already made two just since coming back from lunch.

"Probie! Quick – do something," Tony ordered. "We've entered an alternate universe and somebody else is walking around looking like Gibbs!"

"I think it's kinda cute, Tony," McGee said mildly, never shifting his attention from his computer.

"Cute? Cute?" Tony protested vehemently, playing out his part. "They're not supposed to be cute. They're supposed to kick ass and take names!"

"Still can, DiNozzo," Gibbs guaranteed with a meaningful look.

Then he and Ziva exchanged an affectionate, fulfilled look that spoke volumes.

Tony heaved a sigh of mock disgust and pushed up from his chair. "I need a dose of something normal."

He grinned to himself as he headed away from them. He got a kick out of pretending he was disturbed by any display of the feelings Ziva and Gibbs had for each other, but, in truth, he couldn't have been happier for both of them.

"Where are you going?" Ziva called out curiously.

Her partner's succinct answer left three amused coworkers in his wake.

"The morgue."

_TBC …_


	3. Thunder Rolls

_A/N: Thank you SO MUCH for all the reviews, alerts and favorites! It really means a great deal to me and I am thrilled you're loving my continuation of the "Revelations" universe as much as I am._

_We will be meeting several original characters in the next few chapters. Those are all mine, though Ziva, Gibbs and the rest of the team belong to those who created them. But, boy, do I love to take them out to play. :) Enjoy!_

* * *

Back in the bullpen, Ziva's phone rang, distracting her from Tony's antics and the delicious aroma of the peach cobbler.

"Ziva," she answered.

Gibbs grinned to himself as he had a sudden flashback to the first time she'd answered her work phone after they'd returned from their honeymoon.

"_Dav-" She'd stopped. "Gibbs." She'd then shaken her head and wrinkled her nose adorably as she'd tossed him a dubious look. __He__ was "Gibbs." He'd grinned at her, causing her to roll her eyes._ She'd finally settled on "Ziva" and had been answering her phone that way ever since.

Professionally, she was going by Ziva David Gibbs, though she was not hyphenating the two last names. To say the whole thing just to answer the phone, though, felt like a mouthful.

"Hello, Sergeant Robinson. What can I do for you?" she asked pleasantly.

"Just wanted to give you a heads-up on something," the chief security guard responded on the other end.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Agents Reynolds and Millin are on their way up to interrogation with a suspect, planning to cut through the squad room," he informed her.

"Yes?" That in and of itself was nothing unusual, other than the fact that Special Agent Reynolds had apparently managed to do his job well for once. He'd achieved the status of senior agent due to his years at the agency, but he had more arrogance than skills and common sense combined.

"Got a bad feeling about it," the experienced guard revealed. "I'm sending Officer Martinez up, but just keep an eye out, okay?'

Robinson might not have bothered Gibbs with a hunch that may turn out to be nothing, but he had a real soft spot for Ziva and a healthy respect for her varied abilities. Plus, he knew her well enough to know that having information – even of a seemingly-trivial nature - was more important to her than being interrupted.

"I will," she assured him warmly. The affection was mutual. "Thank you for calling."

Gibbs looked over at her as she hung up. "Everything okay?"

"Most likely," she replied with a slight nod to the side. "Reynolds and Millin are on their way up with a suspect and Sergeant Robinson's gut is churning."

Hmmm. Gibbs had learned long ago to listen to the older man's hunches.

"Officer Martinez is on his way up, but we should keep an eye out," Ziva finished, returning her attention to the brown paper bag and peering inside for a fork to go along with that cobbler. She was quite certain Elaine would have given her one and she was suddenly starving.

That was yet another change that had appeared as she moved into her third month of pregnancy - sudden hunger attacks that could put a posse of teenage boys to shame. She still planned to share with Jethro, but he might have to settle for just a bite.

The elevator opened and the subjects of Robinson's phone call exited.

"Let go of me!" a voice yelled. "Police brutality – that's what this is!"

"Shut up, asshole," Special Agent Reynolds muttered.

"Just 'cause you're Navy cops instead of real ones, don't mean you can treat people any way you want," the suspect sneered.

Gibbs, Ziva and McGee all went on alert. Apparently, Sergeant Robinson's gut had been right on target.

Three men came into view. The suspect was in between the two agents. For some reason, his hands were cuffed in front of him rather than behind him, which was against protocol. Senior Agent Reynolds had hold of the man's left elbow and gave it a hard shake in response to that last comment.

Brett Reynolds was secretly envious of the camaraderie and success of Gibbs' team and took every opportunity to show off in front of them, which is why he'd made a point of parading this particular suspect through the squad room. Charlie Simmons had been wanted for questioning in a series of crimes against Navy sailors for some time and Reynolds was feeling pretty full of himself that he was the one who'd managed to nab him – conveniently ignoring the fact that it had been Millin's instincts and review of the case notes that had led to the man's capture.

On the other side of the suspect was the younger agent, Trent Millin, who was fresh out of training. The only NCIS opening at the Navy Yard had been on Lead Special Agent Johnson's team as Reynolds' partner, basically because everyone transferred off to another team as soon as possible given that Reynolds was insufferable. Millin had all the makings of a good agent – if he survived the jerk with whom he was partnered.

To make matters worse, Johnson was out for a couple of days, which left Agent Reynolds in charge of their team for now and without a lead agent to keep him in line.

"I think you broke my damn shoulder when you slammed me against that wall," the alleged perpetrator spat at Reynolds, which explained why his hands were cuffed in front of him. He'd screamed in apparent agony when Reynolds had attempted to cuff him from behind. That and the suspicious angle of the suspect's left shoulder joint had left the agent with no choice but to cuff his hands in front.

Simmons tried to jerk away from the senior agent's hold, throwing both agents off balance. His eyes had a wild look that suggested he was high on something, in addition to being thoroughly pissed off and more than a little panicked.

Gibbs stood, followed immediately by Ziva and McGee. As she rose, Ziva surreptitiously opened her upper drawer where her Sig was currently resting. Raising his hands, both palms facing out, Gibbs slowly walked around his desk.

"Take it easy," he spoke calmly, trying to catch the suspect's gaze.

Reynolds looked over at Gibbs with annoyance that bordered on angry disdain, taking his eyes off Simmons.

"I got this, Gibbs. Stay out of it," Reynolds ordered.

The suspect took advantage of Reynolds's split focus and head-butted him right in the face. A loud _crack_ reverberated through the bullpen.

Reynolds, already off balance due to the man's twisting around, fell to the ground. Blood spurted out of his nose.

The suspect then shoved hard into Millin, who'd been doing his best to maintain his grip on the guy and some control over the situation. As he shouldered the young agent, Simmons turned into him and managed to use his right hand to yank the gun out of Millin's holster.

Immediately, the squad room fell eerily silent.

At first, the crazed suspect swung his aim back and forth between the agents who'd arrested him. Then, sensing movement behind him, he whipped around and stepped back so all the agents were within his sight. He found the man called Gibbs still advancing stealthily and a gun trained on him by the female agent. Another guy who was a couple desks away finished something on his computer – Simmons couldn't know, but it was an urgent SOS to Vance and Robinson via instant message - then a weapon appeared in his hands, as well.

"You don't want to do this," Gibbs told the suspect quietly, looking him in the eye and trying to get his focus completely on him.

"I'm not going to jail for somethin' I didn't do," the man responded passionately, his eyes almost feral at this point. He waved his gun back and forth, switching from target to target. "They got it all wrong."

"Maybe you're right," Gibbs offered. "Let me help you out – take a look at things for you."

"Stop right where you are," the man demanded, his eyes flitting wildly between Gibbs, Ziva and McGee. "And tell them to put down those guns."

Though the husband and father in him were yearning to get between Ziva and this wildcard with a lethal weapon, he stopped at the corner of her desk so as not to further agitate the guy. Besides, if anyone had a chance of taking Simmons out if necessary it was Ziva, so Gibbs' training instinctively kept him from blocking her shot.

"Certainly," Ziva said agreeably, drawing the man's attention. "You first."

"Ziva …" Gibbs warned, his fear ratcheting up as the gunman's attention fixed on his pregnant wife.

Ziva didn't move, her gaze trained unwaveringly on the suspect. She held her Sig out in front of her steadied with both hands, her stance wide enough to give her extra balance. There was no way in hell that man was going to shoot Jethro or anyone else – not on her watch.

Some sixth sense must have kicked in as Simmons suddenly realized his biggest threat came from the woman on his left – and that the gray-haired guy was scared shitless about something involving her.

He quickly trained his gun on Ziva and three things happened nearly simultaneously.

Ziva put a bullet in the guy's right shoulder, exactly where she'd been aiming. He let out a wounded cry as his grip on the weapon began to loosen.

Agent Millin tackled the guy from behind, taking him down.

As he fell, the gunman managed to squeeze off a shot. The sound of a light _ping_ was lost in the ensuing chaos.

Ziva instinctively dropped to the floor behind her desk as she heard the shot leave Agent Millin's gun.

Gibbs was already in motion and stepped heavily on the suspect's arm before kicking the gun well away from him. He then helped Millin restrain the guy while McGee called for an ambulance and back-up.

Martinez had arrived in the midst of all this and took over for Gibbs. As Jethro stood to turn toward Ziva, four quiet little words sent his world reeling as his heart pounded in his ears and the edges of his consciousness faded to black.

"Jethro, I am hit."


	4. Agent Down

_"Jethro, I am hit."_

In a heartbeat, Gibbs was on his knees beside Ziva. She moved slowly onto her own knees from the crouched position into which she'd dropped and sat back on her ankles. Her left hand stayed braced against the floor, while her other arm came to rest at a right angle against her body.

"Where?" he asked urgently, running his hands over her before she could even speak, trying to find where the bullet had entered her body. It took every ounce of will he had to keep his panic at bay.

"Back. Right. Shoulder blade," she managed, fighting to breathe through the pain.

"McGee!"

"Already on it, Boss," the younger man assured him from nearby, tilting his cell away from his mouth to update Gibbs. His voice was calm, but on the inside he was anything but. "Ducky's on his way up and I'm calling for a second bus for the suspect right now. First responders are on their way; I told them we have an agent down."

It wasn't easy, but Tim kept a tight lid on his own emotions as he took care of the details he knew Gibbs needed him to handle.

Jethro turned Ziva gently. "Let me see," he husked.

When he couldn't shove her shirt up high enough, he grabbed the neckline in the back with both hands and ripped it. There was an unnatural bulge right where she said it would be, with the bullet appearing to be just under the skin. A thin trail of blood was running down her back.

Ducky, Tony and Palmer came racing up.

"What the hell happened?" Tony barked, his gaze taking in the whole scene in a quick glance, coming to rest on Gibbs and Ziva.

"Suspect got hold of a gun," Tim answered him in a low voice. "She put a bullet in his shoulder when he wouldn't stand down and ended up with one in her back."

DiNozzo crouched down at the side of his partner's desk. "Ziva –"

"I … am … fine, Tony," she forced out reflexively, even as she grimaced in pain.

"I'll be the judge of that, my dear," Ducky asserted warmly, kneeling beside her next to Gibbs. His voice became even softer as he laid a reassuring hand on his oldest friend's shoulder when Gibbs didn't move. "Let me take a look at her, Jethro."

Gibbs had slid her bra strap just over her shoulder out of the way and had placed his hand gently over the wound, attempting to staunch the flow of blood without pressing on the bullet. He seemed frozen to the spot, unable to react to Ducky's request.

"Jethro," Ducky nudged sympathetically.

But it was the brown eyes filled with fear and anguish that turned to meet his that broke him from his trance. Ziva's emotions were starting to get the best of her and she needed him.

"Jethro," she begged in a voice thick with her unshed tears, beseeching him to make everything all right.

Immediately, he gathered her into his arms, sitting on the floor and pulling her carefully across his lap so that Ducky had a clear view of her back.

Ziva's left side was pressed to his chest. Gibbs wrapped his right arm around her waist and cradled her face into his neck with his other hand. He pressed his lips to her forehead as she gripped the front of his shirt until her knuckles were stark white.

"The baby," she whispered in a voice that she clearly had to force past the lump in her throat.

"I know," he murmured, still not lifting his lips from her skin. "I know."

A sob caught in Ziva's chest and Gibbs closed his own eyes tightly against the moisture that threatened. He held onto her even more tightly.

"Ziva," Ducky said kindly as he checked her wound carefully. "The bullet is nowhere near the baby and looks to be just under the skin. I know it is difficult, but the best thing you can do for your child right now is to stay as calm as possible."

Ziva nodded slightly in response as her tears spilled over to run silently down her cheeks.

Just then, the medics arrived. Ducky immediately moved out of the way and gave them a brief run down, including the fact that she was nine weeks pregnant. One of the emergency technicians opened their gear to get the supplies they needed, while the other tried to shift her off Gibbs' lap. The icy look from his blue eyes could have frozen sand.

"Sir," the medic said. "We need to look her over, get the bleeding stopped –"

Ziva gasped as visions of a very different kind of bleeding altogether broke past the wall of control she was attempting to use to keep her worst fears at bay.

"You can damn well do that like this," Jethro informed the young man in a voice that brooked no argument.

The paramedic opened his mouth to disagree, but he was interrupted.

"Do as he says," a voice of authority commanded.

Gibbs looked up to find Vance nearby, his gaze steady … somehow steadying.

The technician shook his head in disbelief, then set about placing a bandage with light pressure over the wound as his partner quickly took Ziva's vital signs. Neither Ziva nor Gibbs released their grip on each other one iota during the process.

The second ambulance team arrived and began treating the suspect, who was still being pinned to the ground by Agent Millin and Officer Martinez. With the addition of a new audience, the man started hollering about his mistreatment and innocence. Tony, Tim and Vance all whipped their heads in that direction.

"Shut him up," Tony ordered the medics, "or I'll shut him up for you." He took a threatening step forward, itching for the opportunity to beat the guy senseless.

Vance caught the eye of the senior med tech and then looked meaningfully at the medical supplies. The guy had enough wisdom and experience to realize it was in everyone's best interest to quiet and immobilize the suspect as quickly as possible.

"Giving you something for the pain, buddy," the medic lied as he drew some medication into a syringe. Well, technically, there was truth in what he said; the man wouldn't be feeling any pain while he was unconscious.

Blessed silence reigned as the sedative worked quickly – until Agent Reynolds started moaning and groaning about his broken nose, acting every inch the injured party.

Vance laid a hand on Tony's shoulder as the very special senior agent cursed under his breath and stepped menacingly in Reynolds' direction.

"Knock it off, Agent Reynolds," Vance commanded. "That's an order."

He'd already assigned a different team of agents to travel in the ambulance with the suspect. Reynolds needed checked out as well, but it wasn't serious enough for a third squad to be called.

Sergeant Robinson had arrived on the scene and was asked by the director if he could spare Officer Martinez to drive Reynolds to the hospital. The two men agreed with speaking glance that the officer could be trusted to keep Reynolds in line. At six feet three inches tall and on the plus side of two hundred seventy pounds, the sheer size and confidence of Martinez could intimidate anyone, even an idiot like Reynolds.

"Go ahead and get him out of here now," Leon advised the younger security guard, his eyes moving dismissively from the agent still sitting on the floor squeezing his bleeding nose.

Martinez was only too happy to oblige, roughly hauling the agent to his feet.

"Hey!" Reynolds protested.

"Shut up, asshole," Martinez muttered darkly, looking the agent straight in the eye. There wasn't a guard in the building with an ounce of respect for this guy – and without admiration and a genuine liking for Ziva.

Hearing his own words tossed back at him was not lost on the agent. Thankfully, it stunned him into silence and Martinez marched him off, taking the stairs.

Simmons had been placed on a stretcher which had been moved off to the side to allow the other medical team to use the elevator first.

The medics treating Ziva were now ready to transport her to Bethesda. One brought a gurney closer, then they both moved to lift her.

"No," Gibbs stopped them, feeling the way Ziva had clutched him even more desperately as they moved to take her from him. "I've got her."

"Sir, with all due respect –"

"I said, I've got her," he reiterated with conviction, determined to somehow get up without releasing his grip on his wife.

Vance snagged Tony's eye and tilted his head slightly toward the couple on the floor. Tony caught the drift immediately.

"Pardon us, gentleman," the director said to the paramedics. They instinctively shifted at the authority in his tone.

Moving quickly, Vance and Tony crouched on either side of Gibbs.

"We're gonna give you a hand up, Boss, all right?" Tony asked quietly.

Jethro nodded, communicating his gratitude with just a look. He adjusted his grip on Ziva so he had one hand under her knees and the other more firmly around her waist.

"On the count of three," Leon directed. "One … two … three."

Working as a unit, the three of them got him to a standing position, with Gibbs cradling his wife closely to his body.

Ziva couldn't speak, but she breathed a sigh of relief that Jethro hadn't let go of her yet. An irrational hope had taken hold that if she stayed curled into herself with her husband's arms wrapped around her that somehow, between the two of them, they would keep the baby tucked safely inside her.

The paramedics tried one more time to get him to put her down on the gurney, making the argument that they would be traveling at a high speed to the hospital and she would be safest belted in. She shook her head slightly against him. Jethro dropped a kiss to her head before taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"Look," he told them quietly, with feeling. "I'll put her on the cart in the ambulance so you can strap her in safely for transport. Until then, I've got her."

Without another word, he strode toward the open elevator that McGee already had waiting for them.

"We'll meet you there, Boss," Tim said softly as the paramedics joined them in the elevator. Jethro nodded, then met Tim's eyes to wordlessly communicate his thanks for being able to depend on the younger man to quietly and assuredly take care of the necessary details.

The doors closed and they were gone.

True to his word, Gibbs gently laid Ziva on the portable bed once it was set up in the back of the ambulance, though she barely let go of him enough for him to do it.

He stayed right by her head, clutching her hands in one of his and smoothing her hair with the other as one medic strapped her in carefully as she lay on her left side, her knees still curled toward her stomach.

She tried to speak to Jethro, but nothing came out but a strangled sob. Their eyes locked on each other's, instinctively falling back on that unspoken link that had always been between them.

He let her see the moisture standing in his own eyes even as he began to murmur to her gently, reassuringly. He pressed his lips to her hands, her forehead, her cheek, willing his own unshed tears to stay put. Sensing she needed it, his left forearm came to rest on the side of her right thigh with his hand curved over her hip in a modified version of the hold he'd had on her moments before.

Within minutes that screamed past in a blur even as time seemed to stand perfectly still, the ambulance was pulling into the emergency bay at Bethesda. The hospital personnel had been alerted to their impending arrival and opened the double doors as soon as the vehicle came to a stop. In a practiced move, they lifted the gurney out and wheeled it quickly toward the trauma room that had been prepared.

The suspect had been taken to a different local hospital since he was not connected to the Navy; Reynolds would be brought here, but the staff had strict orders to keep him away from Agent Gibbs – both of them.

Gibbs kept hold of Ziva's hand until he was pushed forcibly aside so they could get her into the closed treatment room and transferred to the hospital bed in there.

"Jethro," Ziva called urgently, reaching for him until a flash of pain forced her back onto the bed.

He started toward her.

One of the paramedics quickly identified Ziva's husband to one of the hospital employees.

"Excuse me, Agent Gibbs." The nurse who'd spoken stopped him by planting herself directly in his path. "We need some information."

"_I_ need to get in there," he bit out, jabbing his finger toward the room where a team was swarming around Ziva.

"The best thing you can do right now to help your wife is to give me some information and the doctor a chance to examine her," the nurse said firmly. "Is she allergic to any medications or to latex?"

Jethro started to tell her what she could do with her questions while making a move to get around her. Just then, Tony, McGee, Ducky, Abby and Vance arrived. The experienced nurse sized them up quickly and looked at Tony.

"You – stand over there," she nodded her head back toward the door behind which Ziva was being treated. Her look and her tone telegraphed that she was a force with whom to be reckoned.

Hoping Gibbs wouldn't kill him for this – though he wouldn't blame him if he did – Tony took up the position into which he'd been ordered.

Jethro started toward the door again anyway, so McGee and Ducky each took an arm.

"Give 'em a chance to do their jobs, Boss," DiNozzo said quietly, looking into the death glare coming from Gibbs' eyes and seeing the agony beneath the fury. "We'll get you in there as soon as possible, even if we have to put all of them in cuffs to do it."

Gibbs shook his friends off and grabbed the nearest object. It happened to be a chair and he threw it across the room with the sound of a wounded animal, somehow retaining enough control to toss it into other furniture instead of into his friends or through a window.

Part of him knew they were right, but the bigger part of him – the part of him that loved the woman and child on that hospital bed more than his own life – needed to get into that room.

His attention was abruptly diverted momentarily by the hovering of a figure standing a ways away. It was a man who was clearly hesitant to come closer, but too concerned to leave altogether.

"You!" Gibbs snarled. "Get out!"

Agent Millin blanched and started to edge away.

He rounded on Leon. "What's he doing here? This is his fault!"

The young agent froze on the spot, looking every bit as guilty as Gibbs had just accused him of being. He was devastated that a suspect had used _his_ weapon to shoot a fellow agent. And the fact that Agent David Gibbs was pregnant … his eyes closed as an unbidden image of his own very pregnant wife sprang to his mind.

"No, Gibbs," Vance said firmly, moving to stand directly in front of his best lead agent so that stormy blue eyes were forced to meet deep brown. "The blame here lies with Reynolds – or with me for not giving that arrogant SOB the boot the day I took the chair. And you can better believe I'll be taking care of the situation. Right now, just concentrate on Ziva."

With that, the wind went out of Gibbs' sails and he suddenly looked every day of his fifty years – and then some.

"Yeah – okay," he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.

Turning back to the nurse, he asked quietly, "What do you need to know?"

The collective sigh of relief from the others in the room was nearly audible even as their concern for Ziva, Gibbs and their baby fairly crackled in the air.


	5. Holding On

In the meantime, head trauma surgeon Dr. Lillian Raynor was trying to get a good look at Ziva's wound. She also wanted to give her patient something to take the edge off the pain so that she could do a thorough evaluation with the least amount of discomfort. However, Ziva was having none of it. She refused to consent to anything until they could give her some reassurance that her baby was all right and they allowed her husband into the room – and not necessarily in that order.

Jethro was her anchor, the one person who could settle her with a word, a glance, a touch. She couldn't handle this without him and needed him as close as possible.

"Agent Gibbs," Dr. Raynor tried again. "We've got one of the hospital obstetricians and the best ultrasound technician we have on the way. In the meantime –"

She paused as a loud noise that could only be the sound of furniture being thrown came from outside the room. She looked toward the door, then arched a brow at Ziva.

"That would be my husband," Ziva confirmed, looking up at the doctor. Her tone changed from factual to pleading. "We work together. He was right there when –" She took a breath. "When everything happened. He and I will both do better if you let him in here."

The doctor considered her for a moment. "Can he behave himself?"

"The chances of that are much higher if we are together." Ziva adroitly avoided making any promises that Jethro might not be able to keep.

The doctor looked at her for a few more seconds, clearly thinking it over. "All right, we'll try it. But he has to understand a few things."

The doctor went through the door, closing it behind her. Everyone turned. Gibbs' long stride quickly ate up the distance between them as the doctor gestured for Tony to move out of her way. She took up her own stance in front of the entrance, her arms crossed. Her tall, lean form and glittering green eyes conveyed that she meant business and she wanted everyone to know it.

"How is she?" Jethro asked urgently.

"You must be the other Agent Gibbs." He gave a quick nod. "I'm Dr. Raynor. Your wife needs a bullet removed from her shoulder blade. She is declining pain medicine and refuses to let me even get a good look at the wound – let alone get that bullet out – until the OB has checked her and the baby. That doctor has been paged."

Dr. Raynor gestured back at the door with a slight tilt of her head. "She says you'll both do better if I let you in there, but I can't have the kind of behavior I've heard out here taking place in my treatment room. Can I trust you to remain calm?"

Gibbs closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, gaining composure.

"You can trust me," he huffed out. He opened his eyes and looked at the doctor with all the emotions careening through him on display. She could all but hear him in her head. _I need to see her. Please._

Dr. Raynor gazed at him for a long moment and then she nodded, sensing he would hold it together for his wife.

"All right - you can come in. But remember: this is my place, my rules. I hope it won't come to this, but I will not hesitate to have you removed from the room if necessary."

She turned toward the door, then stopped. She wasn't a complete hard-ass – only when she felt she needed to be so that her patients got the best care she could give them. Turning back to Gibbs, she placed an understanding hand on his shoulder and said, "The bullet wound is not deep and all signs are that everything else is fine. We're going to take good care of her, Agent Gibbs – of both of them."

"Thanks, Doc," Jethro breathed out.

Then the door that had been keeping him from the woman he loved was suddenly open and he was beside her in less than a heartbeat.

She immediately reached for him and he took her hand. One of the nurses unobtrusively slipped a chair up to him, so he could be seated next to Ziva. He kept her left hand in his right, cupping the side of her face with his free hand. Tilting her toward him, he pressed a brief kiss to her lips, then rested his forehead against hers. The beeps from the machine monitoring Ziva's heart rate and respiration immediately began to slow.

She rested against him for a long moment, then pulled back far enough to look into his eyes.

Another sharp ache shot through her shoulder area and Ziva closed her eyes reflexively. After it passed, she lifted her lids to reveal eyes drenched with worry.

"Jethro," she whispered in a thick voice, her lip quivering. "I am so scared."

Tears filled her eyes.

"I know. Me, too," he husked. She'd placed her right hand protectively over her belly and he covered it with his left. "Doc says everything seems all right, but we'll make sure."

"What if …" Ziva squeezed her eyes shut tightly and took a deep breath, then looked at him again. "What if the shock is too much?" she asked in a tormented whisper, her tears spilling over. "The baby is so tiny and the first twelve weeks ..."

"Shhh," he soothed her.

"I could not bear it," she admitted in a voice that made his own throat ache with emotion. She closed her eyes in an effort to stop her tears.

"Don't think about that right now," he commanded gently. "Look at me, Ziver."

He waited until her eyes were back on his. Rather than offer platitudes that wouldn't do any good, potentially meaningless words that he wouldn't believe himself, he grounded her with a couple of questions.

Smoothing her tears away with his thumb, he asked her gently, "Does anything feel different?"

She shook her head.

His voice deepened, becoming even softer. "Any bleeding?"

She shook her head more rapidly no. Her lip quivered again as he named her greatest fear out loud.

"That's all good." He let out the breath he'd been holding, relieved. "So, we're gonna stay calm like Duck said. Together. You with me?"

She allowed herself to drown in his blue eyes, taking some of his strength for her own.

"Always," she whispered, gazing at him with her heart in her eyes. "I love you."

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"Love you, too."

Standing unobtrusively out of the way to give them a moment, Dr. Raynor privately marveled at the changes in both of them once they were together again. She was glad she'd listened to her patient – and her gut – on allowing Jethro into the room.

"Ziva," Dr. Raynor broke in while looking over her chart, searching for some information. "Do you have an obstetrician yet?"

"Yes. It is Dr. Allison Smith," Ziva shared, glancing up at the doctor. "I saw her three weeks ago for my first appointment."

"Did that go well for you?"

"Oh, yes," Ziva answered the surgeon with feeling. Then she continued in a low voice, "I wish she were here right now; I felt very comfortable with her."

A mysterious smile played about Dr. Raynor's lips as she glanced meaningfully at the one nurse who was still in the room with them. "Maybe I can reach her. She owes me a favor or three."

She walked from the room pulling her phone out of her pocket as she glanced at her watch, heading to an area where she could use her cell. The nurse smiled reassuringly at Ziva, then went about checking her vitals again on the various machines and noting them on the chart.

Ziva turned back into Jethro and nuzzled his cheek with her nose. "You were throwing furniture again."

Her observation was interrupted as her face contorted in a grimace of pain. She squeezed his hand until she was white-knuckled, waiting for it to pass. When she released a breath and opened her eyes, he was looking at her steadily. He briefly pressed his lips to her hand as it relaxed.

"DiNozzo's lucky that's all I threw," he admitted dryly.

She lifted a brow in question.

"They put him in front of the door to keep me out of here," he informed her.

"Poor Tony," she murmured. She continued with a ghost of a knowing smile. "How badly is he hurt?"

"He's not." Ziva's brows went up in disbelief at Jethro's response.

"Ducky and Tim grabbed my arms before I could get to him," he revealed honestly, cupping her jaw and smoothing his thumb over her cheek.

"Ah," she responded. "So, I suppose I should ask how badly they are hurt."

"Took it out on the furniture instead of them," he shared wryly, his eyes tracing her beautiful features.

"Good choice," she congratulated him, her right hand lifting from where it was resting on her stomach to lovingly touch his cheek.

Laying her head on his shoulder, she concentrated on breathing him in while he cradled her to him gently, mindful of her wound.

* * *

Down the hall, Dr. Raynor pressed the number one speed dial on her phone and couldn't help the small smile that curved her lips as her partner picked up.

"Well, hello," Allison Smith drawled, using the hands-free device in her car to answer the call. "Thought you were working."

"I am," Lil said. "That's why I'm calling. Got one of your patients in my trauma room. NCIS Special Agent Ziva David Gibbs." She heard Allison's gasp over the line.

"What happened?" she demanded urgently.

Lillian gave her the short version and added that Ziva was refusing treatment of any kind until she could be assured that the baby was all right.

"Any cramping, bleeding or spotting?" Allison asked, relieved to hear the answer was no.

"Any chance I could cash in my favors from this morning and get you to swing by here?" Lillian questioned. "She'd prefer that you be the one to check her out and, frankly, so would I."

"I just left the office and am in the car right now," Allison said. "As long as Elizabeth can pick up Megan, I can be there soon."

"Great," Lil answered. "Let me know if she can't and I'll bang a few heads upstairs until I get an OB down here. Not sure why I don't have one yet, to be honest."

"Must be extra busy up in labor and delivery," Allison pointed out. "Hopefully, I'll see you in a few minutes."

As an afterthought, she added, "And, hey, ask for Denise, would you?" referring to her favorite ultrasound technician.

"Already done," Lil assured her. Even before Lil had known that Allison was involved in Ziva's care, she'd requested the best sonogram specialist in the hospital to take a look at the baby.

The two women said goodbye and hung up. While Dr. Raynor returned to Ziva's room, Allison immediately called Lil's niece Elizabeth who lived with them and was relieved to learn she could indeed pick up their daughter Megan from preschool.

With that handled, Dr. Smith continued on the short drive from her office to Bethesda. She'd only met Ziva and Jethro once, but they had left quite an impression on her. Knowing her daughter was well-taken-care-of, getting off early this afternoon suddenly did not feel as necessary as being at the hospital. She pulled into the parking lot praying she'd have only good news for them about their baby.


	6. Picture of Strength

Dr. Raynor returned to Ziva's room and relayed the good news that she was reasonably sure that Dr. Smith would be able to stop in. The surgeon then checked the bandage on Ziva's shoulder blade to make sure there was no sign of additional bleeding and eyeballed the latest round of vital signs that the nurse had copied onto the chart.

The door to the treatment room opened again shortly thereafter and a machine filled the entryway. It was wheeled on in by a pleasingly plump woman of not-quite-average height. Her hair was a short, spiky mix of black and silver that completely suited her. She looked to be maybe a little older than Gibbs.

"Hey, Denise," Dr. Raynor said amiably. "I was glad to learn you were on duty."

"Yep, getting a head start on a double shift," she answered, beginning to set up her machine as she spoke. "Sorry about the delay. Things are hopping upstairs, which is why I came in early. Got down here as fast as I could."

"Thanks. Still waiting on an OB," Dr. Raynor informed her. "Hoping Dr. Smith can stop by. I just spoke to her."

"Well, if anyone can get her here, it'd be you," Denise winked at her.

Lillian cracked a smile. "Actually, I think it's this particular patient. I offered to cash in some favors, but she didn't even take me up on it. Denise, this is Special Agent Ziva David Gibbs and her husband, also Special Agent Gibbs. They're with NCIS. Ziva, this is Denise, best ultrasound technician you'll ever meet."

Then she added with an affectionate smirk in her eyes, "Of course, she ought to know her way around a sonogram picture by now; she's been doing this since I was in grade school."

Denise threw her a mock narrow-eyed scowl.

Then, with a shrug, the older woman glanced at Gibbs and Ziva and shared in a long-suffering tone, "Well, _some_one's got to stick around and show these younger folks a thing or two."

Then her lips twitched as she threw the doctor a wink. Clearly, the age joke was a standing one between them.

A ghost of his characteristic smile played about Gibbs' mouth and, despite the circumstances, even Ziva's lips curved a little. On the outskirts of their worry, the easygoing banter lent a certain comfort to the atmosphere in the room.

The technician gave the couple a friendly look as she completed her set-up. "Nice to meet you both. I'll be ready to go here pretty soon and then I'll start taking a look at things while we're waiting on the OB." She wouldn't be able to give them any information without the physician present, but she could start her scans.

"Thank you," Ziva said, clearly relieved.

Once the machine was all set, Denise stepped from behind it to speak directly to Ziva. "Dr. Smith is your doctor?" she asked.

Ziva nodded.

"She usually likes to see her patients at six weeks or a little after for the first visit and has an ultrasound done then," Denise commented. "Was that the case with you?"

"Yes," Ziva answered softly, wishing the woman would just get on with it.

"What did you see?" Denise asked.

Jethro spoke up. "A lima bean with a heartbeat."

The faint curve to his lips as he gazed into Ziva's anxious expression was nothing but tender, the look in his eyes taking her back to that first view of the baby they had created together.

"That is true," she admitted huskily with a squeeze of his hand.

"There are a couple different ways to do an ultrasound. Were they able to get a picture and see the heartbeat using this against your stomach?" Denise held up the short, rounded wand on the side of the machine. She wanted to know if an external scan had been done or if the previous technician had used a wand inserted into Ziva's vagina.

Ziva nodded again.

"Great – then you know how this works." She didn't say more, but she privately saw that as a very positive sign. The heartbeat wasn't always visible with an external sonogram at six weeks' gestation; the fact that it had been suggested the pregnancy had already been well-established by that point, which was certainly a plus in the current situation. Denise picked up a bottle of gel and gestured to Ziva's middle. "Pull up your shirt for me and unfasten your pants. Putting off that hospital gown as long as possible, huh?"

Dr. Raynor snorted, causing Denise to lift a brow in question as the door to the room opened yet again. The truth was Ziva had refused to even let them remove her ruined shirt until she had news about their baby.

"Well, who could blame her for that? Those things are drafty." A woman with long, curly white-blonde hair and an attractive Southern accent strode in with a smile. With a look that encompassed Dr. Raynor, the nurse and the technician, she murmured a greeting to them as she came further into the room.

"Dr. Smith," Ziva breathed out in relief. "Thank you for coming."

"You're welcome. Thought you weren't due back in until next week," she said, walking over to the bed. "Just couldn't wait to see me again, hmmm?"

"Something like that," Ziva murmured, then winced in pain as she adjusted her clothing as requested.

"I hear you got in the way of a bullet. Didn't we talk about desk duty?" Dr. Smith glanced quickly at Ziva's chart, then pressed her fingers to Ziva's wrist as she looked over the current readings on the machines. She could see and feel that Ziva's pulse was a little high, but not alarmingly so.

Not all doctors would have recommended desk duty right from the beginning of a pregnancy, but Dr. Smith had a more conservative view on that in jobs that could be high risk - like being an NCIS Special Agent.

"She _was_ on desk duty," Jethro advised.

The obstetrician raised an eyebrow at that.

"A suspect got hold of a gun in the squad room," Ziva explained.

"Hmmm … we might need to talk more about that, but it can wait," Dr. Smith observed. She looked at Ziva with direct, but compassionate eyes. "Any changes with you since Dr. Raynor called me?"

Ziva knew she was asking about cramping or bleeding that might signal a problem with the pregnancy. She drew a shaky, steadying breath, then shook her head no.

"That's good news," the doctor responded, clearly as relieved as Ziva at her patient's answer. With an encouraging curve to her lips, she continued. "Now, let's get to the part I know you've been waiting for."

She gestured to Denise, who squeezed some gel onto Ziva's tummy. She gasped a little at the cold feeling on her skin, even though she knew to expect it. The technician then placed the ultrasound wand against the gel and began looking at the monitor as she moved slowly over Ziva's belly, pushing various buttons from time to time on the equipment she was using. The machine was situated so that she could easily reach Ziva and keep an eye on the monitor, but neither Ziva nor Jethro could see the screen at this point.

Dr. Smith tucked her hands in her pockets and moved to stand behind Denise so she could see what was being displayed on the monitor, as well.

Taking a backseat for now, Dr. Raynor and the nurse working with her observed everything quietly from one side of the room.

Ziva and Gibbs couldn't help but fix their attention nervously on Dr. Smith's face, waiting for some kind of reaction as she watched the monitor. Ziva clutched his hand in a death grip, feeling as though her heart just might pound right out of her chest.

After what felt like the longest moments in history, the doctor smiled.

Ziva murmured _Oh, thank God_ toward the heavens as she released a pent-up breath. Jethro's own sigh of relief was audible and then he warmly pressed another kiss to Ziva's hand. Immediately, the ball of fear they'd each been carrying like a lead weight in the pits of their stomachs began to melt into a euphoric glow that warmed the whole room.

"Let's show these folks their baby, Denise," Dr. Smith ordered. Turning twinkling blue eyes to Ziva and Jethro, she added, "I think you'll notice a few changes from three weeks ago."

The technician smiled and turned the monitor so the couple could see. Ziva's eyes widened.

"Jethro – look," Ziva breathed in awe. "He looks like a baby now!"

Gibbs chuckled in amazement as he blinked back the moisture that threatened. She was right.

The development that had taken place in the last three weeks was right on schedule and nothing short of miraculous. Though the baby was only about an inch long from stem to stern, there was now clearly a head – a rather disproportionately-large head, but that, too, was typical at this stage – along with arms and legs. They were looking at a side view, so just one eye was visible for now. The heart was beating strongly, just like it had been the last time.

"Want to hear the heart beat?" Dr. Smith asked, her lips still curved.

"Please," Ziva answered eagerly.

Denise pushed a button and the room was filled with the _swoosh swoosh swoosh_ of an infant's heart. Ziva and Gibbs found each other with their eyes, the unspoken communication that formed the bedrock of their connection nearly tangible even to the others in the room. They were both nearly giddy with a joyous relief that was contagious, as they fully relaxed for the first time since before she'd been shot. Tears of happiness trickled down their cheeks as Ziva's light, amazed, grateful laughter danced on the air.

She tried to throw her arms around her husband, but the pain in her right shoulder got in the way. He immediately gave her an assist, leaning over to wrap both arms more securely around her, cradling her close. She rested the side of her head against his as she looked back at the monitor again.

"He is really all right?" she whispered to the doctor.

"You keep saying 'he'," Jethro interrupted, looking down at her. "You know something I don't?"

Ziva looked a little embarrassed and avoided his eyes as she shook her head. "I do not want to call our baby an 'it.' I suppose I should say he or she, yes?"

She kept to herself for now that her intuition whispered that the baby was a boy. After all, she had no proof of that and did not have enough confidence to admit it out loud, especially since her husband was not the only other person in the room.

Gibbs just smiled at her explanation – and wondered what she wasn't telling him.

"Everything looks great," the obstetrician broke in to answer Ziva's question. "The baby's heart rate is a little high, but not out of the range of normal. That's probably because yours is a little elevated, understandably so. I say we keep you in overnight and continue to monitor things with regular ultrasounds; I'd also like to do blood work a couple of times to make sure your HCG hormone levels are increasing like they should be. However, nothing seems amiss and I do not see anything to suggest that will change."

Ziva gazed at the grainy picture of her baby on the screen, enthralled. Her relief was nearly palpable. Then, she had a thought and tensed a little once more.

"Gunshots are very loud. What about the baby's hearing?" Her tone and furrowed brow conveyed her worry as much as her words.

"There's a lot going on in there, but the baby can't hear yet," Dr. Smith reassured her. "There's no need to be concerned about that at this stage."

The baby's parents were clearly comforted by her answer. They returned their attention to the black and white image of the tiny person who had already come to mean the world to them.

"Thank you, Doctor," Ziva husked in a voice thick with emotion, unable to tear her eyes away from the monitor that showed her baby nestled exactly where he – or she – should be. "Thank you so much."

"Glad to be the bearer of good news," Dr. Smith smiled. "Denise, why don't you print an extra picture for them?"

Ziva's eyes lit up.

As the technician took care of that, Dr. Smith continued. "Now, we have a bullet for Dr. Raynor to remove and I understand you're refusing any medication."

"That is right. It is best for the baby, yes?" Ziva asked, glancing at her doctor again.

Dr. Smith lifted one side of the bandage and took a good look at the wound as she responded. "Well, we do like to avoid most drugs, especially in the first trimester, but we also need to get that bullet out safely. It doesn't appear to be in there too deeply; you sure were trying to get away from it, weren't you?"

Ziva nodded.

"I heard a _ping_ after he pulled the trigger. I believe it ricocheted off my file cabinet or something, which also would have slowed it down and altered the angle."

Gibbs looked at his wife with some surprise; that was the first he'd heard of that information.

Dr. Smith offered, "I could recommend a local anesthetic or couple of things that we use during the early stages of labor that should be safe. They might not block all the pain, but will definitely at least take the edge off."

"'Should' be safe?" Ziva questioned with emphasis. "Or _will_ be?"

Dr. Smith paused. "I won't lie to you, Ziva. At this stage of your pregnancy, the best I can say is 'should'."

"Then, no anesthetic or anything else," Ziva stated firmly. She looked at Dr. Raynor. "Everyone keeps saying the bullet is just under the skin. I can handle the pain and remain still; I have dealt with far worse. Tell them, Jethro."

Her husband looked slightly torn. He didn't want any adverse affects on the baby either, but he also hated the thought of Ziva hurting unnecessarily. He gazed into the unwavering determination on her face and knew the only thing he could do was back her up and hold her hand through it, even if he had to bully his way into the operating room - or get Vance to pull some rank. Yeah, that was probably the safer route.

"She's right," he confirmed. Ziva relaxed a little.

Both doctors breathed out an uncertain sigh. Lil looked at Allison and tilted her head toward the hall. She got the message.

"We're going to brainstorm for a minute," Dr. Smith told Ziva. "You just relax and Denise will clean you up a bit. You mind, Denise?"

"Not at all," she assured the doctor, getting some tissues to wipe the gel off Ziva's stomach.

Just before Dr. Raynor opened the door, Dr. Smith turned and asked her patient, "I assume that bunch in the waiting room is with you?"

Both Ziva and Gibbs nodded.

"If they ask, do you want me to tell them anything?" the obstetrician asked.

"Please tell them that we are doing all right – all three of us," Ziva requested softly. "I am sure they are worried."

Dr. Smith nodded with a reassuring smile.

The two doctors stepped out of the room and walked down the hall a ways, avoiding for now the people in the nearby chairs who were anxiously hoping for news. Their first priority was figuring out what to do about removing that bullet.

While they waited on the physicians to return, Ziva and Jethro became completely absorbed in studying the ultrasound picture of their baby. In awed murmurs, they marveled over the little arms and legs … the tiny hands and feet … fingers that could already be counted and the scalloped bumps that were forming into toes … the head that Jethro was sure already held a brain as smart as Ziva's. She snorted at him lightly with a slight shake of her head as she rested trustingly against him, floating on a cloud of pure happiness.

From just looking at her face, one would have no idea she was lying there with a bullet in her back.

The couple knew they weren't completely out of the woods yet. After all, there was still the matter of that slug to be removed. However, their baby was proving to be every bit as strong and resilient as they were and, in that moment, it felt like the three of them could handle anything.

* * *

_A/N:__ Well, Happy Mother's Day to Ziva, hmmm? (It's not May in the story, but it's still Mother's Day in my timezone for a wee bit longer.) Those of you who've been biting your nails and waiting anxiously can now rest assured that, while Zivacentric might explore the dark side, she hasn't completely gone over - yet, anyway. :p THANKS so much for reading and I would love to hear what you think. And a very Happy Mother's Day to all of you fellow mothers, as well! :)_


	7. Ducky's Cool Idea

_A/N: Thank you for joining me for the continuation of this story. My apologies for the delay in updating it; I blame it on the two recent stories that hijacked my muse coupled with the demands of RL. :) The next chapter is in the final editing phase and should be posted soon. Reviews really are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!  
_

* * *

_Previously in Waves of Grace …_

_The two doctors stepped out of the room and walked down the hall a ways, avoiding for now the people in the nearby chairs who were anxiously hoping for news. Their first priority was figuring out what to do about removing that bullet._

Six pairs of eyes watched apprehensively from the waiting room as the doctors disappeared down the hall, while another set focused in a similar manner from further away, just out of sight.

"Ducky!" Abby reacted, gripping his arm urgently. "Why are they leaving the room? Shouldn't they be with Ziva? They look serious. Do you think something's going wrong?"

The words tumbled out of her without her even thinking them through, fueled by her worry.

"I don't believe so, Abby," the Scot responded, squeezing her hand reassuringly, "but perhaps I can get an update."

If something was indeed going wrong – well, any more wrong than the mere fact that a pregnant woman had a bullet in her back - he was certain the doctors would be in that treatment room with their patient rather than walking down the hall. Besides, he really didn't read their body language to suggest that, but … no harm in checking.

He ambled after the two women, leaving the others to wait together. Jimmy Palmer had joined them, so their whole group was now there.

Vance took a moment to step out into the hallway to speak to Agent Millin, who was waiting with trepidation, as well.

Trent looked up immediately when he heard footsteps. Finding his director heading toward him, he instinctively straightened into a sailor's respectful stance for his captain, falling back on his days in the Navy just prior to joining NCIS.

Leon smiled internally. The man reminded him of Ziva in that respect.

"Why don't you go on home, Trent," Vance suggested calmly. "I'll call you as soon as there's anything to report."

"With all due respect, sir," Agent Millin responded quietly, "I'd rather stay. I'll keep out of the way; I don't want to upset … anyone." He didn't say Gibbs' name, but it practically reverberated between them.

The young agent was doing a remarkable job of keeping his face stoic given all the emotions Vance could read behind his eyes: Worry. Regret. Guilt.

_Lots _of guilt.

"This is not your fault," the Director said firmly, wanting to lance that wound before it could fester any longer. "Agent Gibbs was wrong about that. He'll realize it when he can think clearly again, but I think we can cut him a little slack at the moment."

"But it was my gun," the man insisted.

"Yes, and there are lessons to be learned from all this," Vance said evenly. Then his voice took on a hard edge. "Lessons that Mr. Reynolds should have learned long ago and helped teach you." The fact that Vance did not refer to Reynolds as an agent was not lost on Millin.

"Ziva would be the last person to lay blame at your feet for this and Gibbs will come around." Leon gave him a level look that was tempered with experience and a hint of compassion. "What happened today is not on you, but what you do with it is."

Trent looked away and mulled all that over in his mind before giving his superior a nod that said he got it – and he'd work on it.

Vance gave him the ghost of a satisfied smile.

"Now, sure I can't talk you into going home to your wife?" the director asked.

"I'd just like to stay until …" Trent firmed his resolve and looked Vance in the eye. "Until we know everything's all right."

Vance nodded, secretly pleased with the young man. He had a lot of potential with the right guidance.

"Maybe I will give Veronica a call, though," Millin decided, referring to his wife. "I'll just wait over here. You'll let me know - ?"

Vance dipped his head in the affirmative. "Soon as I know anything."

"Thank you, sir," Trent answered, stepping away as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

Vance returned to the rest of the team. McGee and DiNozzo caught his eye.

"How's he doing?" Tim asked quietly, tilting his head toward Agent Millin.

"Beating himself up pretty good," Leon informed them, "but holding up remarkably well under the circumstances. And he's willing to brave Gibbs' wrath to stick around until he knows Ziva and the baby are all right." There was unmistakable approval in Vance's voice with that last statement. Then his eyes took on a banked gleam. "He's also smart enough to stay out of the way while he does."

A faint smile showed in their eyes as DiNozzo and McGee shared a look. Both two agents made a mental note to touch base with the young man after they knew their friends were all right.

Abby was nearly vibrating with worry. She turned to Tony for a hug.

"Ziva and the Zibblet _have_ to be okay," Abby pleaded desperately with the universe, unable to keep it bottled up any longer. "They just have to."

DiNozzo looked down at her.

"Zibblet?" he questioned, looking at her a little oddly.

"Yeah, you know – Ziva plus Gibbs plus baby. Zibblet," Abby explained, as though it were the most natural word combination in the world. And for her, it was.

Tony nodded slightly. "Huh – I like it." Then, with an extra squeeze he added, "They're gonna be. Gibbs wouldn't have it any other way."

Privately, he agreed with Abby: they _had_ to be. 'Cause he didn't know how the hell they'd help Gibbs through it if any part of that wasn't true.

Down the hall, the focus of Ducky's attention leaned against the wall as they conferenced together.

"That's the couple you told me about, isn't it?" Lil asked her partner, thinking back to an evening when they'd been catching up on each other's work after putting their daughter to bed.

Allison nodded. "You see what I was trying to explain? There's just something about them … it's like, they've both been to hell and back on their own but now they have each other and it's … saved them. And they're completely aware of that, seem almost amazed by it, and they don't take it for granted. I don't know how else to describe it."

"I would say that is a very accurate description, Doctor," Ducky put in with a small smile, coming up to them.

The two women looked at him. Dr. Raynor was tall and thin, with a cap of short red hair. She immediately stiffened and looked at him suspiciously. Dr. Smith was nearly as tall, but curvier and her long blond curls had been left to hang down her back. Her body language was not nearly so ready to pounce if necessary, but she did give him a wary look.

"Do pardon the interruption," Ducky continued quickly. "I am Dr. Donald Mallard, the Medical Examiner at NCIS. I'm also a close friend of Jethro and Ziva's, and am wondering if you can give me an update or if I may be of service in any way."

Ziva's doctors relaxed and introduced themselves. Dr. Raynor succinctly explained the situation – that Ziva wanted to proceed with removing the slug without any anesthesia due to her pregnancy.

Ducky breathed a sigh of relief at the implication that Ziva was still pregnant.

"She says she can handle it without meds, that she's handled worse," Dr. Raynor finished. "I'm just concerned she won't be able to stop herself from jerking at some point while I'm trying to remove the bullet and end up causing more damage than what we have right now, which appears to be remarkably minimal at this point."

"I have known Ziva a long time and happen to believe she is correct in her assertion that she will be able to cope with the situation without medication, though I do also understand your concerns, Doctor." The ME paused as he stared at the floor, clearly thinking.

"You know," he continued thoughtfully, "I did extensive military field work before coming to NCIS, often in less than optimal conditions." For once, he cut to the chase rather than embellishing with one of his stories. "I wonder, have you considered numbing the area with ice?"

The two women looked at each other in surprise, then back at Ducky.

"Hadn't yet," Dr. Raynor admitted, "but that's a great idea. Unless there's something unexpected waiting for me under that bullet, I shouldn't have to dig deeply to remove it and she won't need many stitches. I do want to thoroughly clean the area and check for any bone chips, but the ice will have the added benefit of reducing swelling, which will make that easier and will further lessen the pain."

Ducky beamed.

"Glad you joined our brainstorming session. Thanks, Dr. Mallard," Dr. Smith said with a small smile. "And I do have Ziva and Jethro's permission to give you an update. The baby is doing fine and I have no reason to expect that to change, though we'll keep a good eye on both of them for at least the next twenty-four hours."

"Oh, that _is_ a relief. Thank you." Ducky visibly relaxed. "No one deserves happiness more than those two and they want this baby very much."

"I can tell," Allison's smile warmed. She turned her face toward Lil. "Let's get back in there and get that bullet out, hmmm?"

"You sticking around?" the red-head asked. Her partner nodded.

The three of them walked back to Ziva's room, with Ducky veering off into the waiting area to give the rest of the team the update. The doctors went into the treatment room and explained Ducky's idea to Ziva and Jethro. Ziva was very relieved.

"I'd like to stay and we'll keep the ultrasound on the baby during the procedure, just to keep a close eye on things," Dr. Smith informed them. "I'm probably being overly cautious, but we'll all breathe a little more easily with the confirmation that nothing has changed."

In truth, Ziva's obstetrician was more concerned about her patient's state of mind and stress level at this point than she was about the baby. Knowing for sure that her child was all right would help Ziva relax. Besides, watching the monitor would give Ziva a captivating focal point, which certainly couldn't hurt given that they were going to do this without anesthesia of any kind.

"Even though the operation will be very simple, I do want a sterile environment for this, especially since I imagine you don't want to take any kind of antibiotic either, am I right?" Dr. Raynor questioned Ziva.

"I would prefer not to," Ziva admitted, "unless it is absolutely necessary."

The surgeon nodded, clearly not surprised. "We'll do everything we can to avoid that, but I can't make any promises at this point. Now, let's get you into a gown and move this party to an operating room."

"I want Jethro with me," Ziva informed her doctors with a look that somehow managed to be respectful even as it dared the women to argue with her over that point.

"I expected as much," Dr. Raynor responded with a small smile. "Agent Gibbs, we'll need you to scrub up and change into some of the hospital's finest attire." She pointed to her own scrubs. He nodded. "Denise, there's an ultrasound machine in the operating ward that you can use; we'll have you scrub in, too."

Turning to the nurse, Dr. Raynor requested, "Jane, will you call the OR and get us a room, and get an ice pack in place over Ziva's wound? I'd like it on there at least twenty minutes before we start."

"Certainly, Doctor," Jane responded, already turning toward the phone.

"I'm going on down to get myself ready and make sure everything is in order. Dr. Smith, you'll show Agent Gibbs where he can change and wash up?" Allison nodded. "Thanks. Do you two want me to let your friends know the plan and where they can wait closer to the OR?" She directed the last question to Gibbs and Ziva.

The couple looked at each other and nodded in perfect harmony before Ziva answered, "Yes, please."

The surgeon gave them all a satisfied nod. "Okay, see you all shortly."

She strode out of the room with a confident stride, clearly in task mode and glad to be there. At last.

_TBC ..._


	8. We've Got This

While everyone else was getting changed and washed up, Ziva was going through much the same routine. A surgical nurse helped her out of her street clothes; washed her entire upper body quickly, but meticulously with an antibacterial cleanser; made sure the ice pack stayed in place except to wash under it; captured her hair up in one of those lovely blue coverings that looked a lot like a shower cap; and assisted her into a hospital gown left open in the back. Ziva was then transferred onto a bed in the operating room. She was lying mostly on her left side so that the staff could reach both her back and her front.

Within about twenty minutes, the whole group from her treatment room was reassembled around Ziva, everyone properly cleaned and dressed.

The nurse, Jane, hooked Ziva up to monitors for her heart and breathing, while Denise readied the ultrasound machine and draped Ziva's gown and the sheet in such a way that just her tummy was visible and accessible. The technician then reapplied the gel she needed and pressed the wand to Ziva's skin. A stool had been placed at the side of the bed near Ziva's head for Gibbs, so he could be as close as both he and Ziva needed him to be. He took his seat, immediately covering her left hand with his own and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Dr. Raynor studied the monitors while Jane opened the packages of instruments she'd need and Denise brought the picture of the baby up on her screen. Ziva's attention was immediately focused there, but her heart rate and breathing were a little faster than Lil liked.

"Ziva, I can only imagine you're feeling anxious with everything that's gone on and with what we're about to do," the doctor said. "But I'd feel a lot more comfortable if your vital signs were a little slower."

Jethro had an idea. Maybe he should try it himself, too, he thought wryly. He understood why Ziva wanted to proceed without anesthetic, but it killed him to see her in pain and he hoped he could just stay focused on giving her what she needed, if it came. To that end, it wouldn't hurt to calm his own heart rate. He caught the doc's eye, silently asking for a moment. She gave him a slight nod from where she stood behind Ziva.

"C'mere," he husked to his wife, gently shifting her just enough so that her head rested on his shoulder instead of on the bed, while the rest of her remained where it needed to be. "Hold onto me."

He guided her right arm smoothly under his left one and around to his back, where her hand instinctively gripped him. He could feel the tension that was still in her muscles, her body's innate response to preparing itself for possible pain. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, unconsciously beginning to model what he was about to suggest.

Gibbs dipped his head and murmured in her ear, "Sniper breathing."

That got her attention.

And everyone else's, though neither Ziva nor Jethro paid any mind to that.

Ziva tilted her head just enough to look up into her husband's face, her brow furrowed in some confusion.

His blue eyes gazed deeply into her brown ones. He had a surgical mask hanging around his neck in case he needed to sneeze or cough, but the staff had not made him put it on so Ziva was able to see the steady, but tender look on his face.

"You have someone to protect," he tilted his head toward her belly, "and something to take care of." This time he nodded toward her back. "Put yourself in that place where everything else goes quiet and you know you've got this."

Realization dawned in Ziva's eyes and her breathing instinctively started to slow immediately.

"Sniper breathing," she sighed, relaxing her head back onto her husband's shoulder.

Ziva focused on the ultrasound monitor as though she could protect her baby with just her undivided attention. In under a minute, her heart rate slowed and the pattern of her inhales and exhales became even and almost shallow. Gibbs unobtrusively brought his left arm closer to his body so her right arm was trapped more firmly against him, helping to insure she would not move it without thinking as her muscles relaxed.

Pressing his lips to the top of her covered head, he murmured, "That's my girl."

If anything, Ziva relaxed even further. "Always ," she murmured without moving her eyes from their child.

Jethro smiled against her, then looked up at Dr. Raynor who was staring at him. Approval glinted unmistakably in her eyes. The others looked on in amazement.

"Wow," the surgeon intoned, nearly under her breath. Then her voice strengthened. "If I ever write a book about my life as a doctor, you two are definitely going in."

Jethro grinned, but Ziva gave no reaction that she'd heard the comment at all. He knew she had, but also knew she would only make necessary comments at this point.

"Ziva," said Dr. Raynor, firmly enough to get her patient's attention, but not enough to startle her. "You strike me as the kind of person who would like to know what I'm doing before I do it. Want me to talk you through this?"

"Yes, please," Ziva answered without moving her head.

"I'll do my best, but keep in mind that I'm used to my patients being asleep and doing my own thing," Lil reminded her dryly. The corners of Ziva's lips turned up a little, but she made no other response.

"Okay. First, Jane is going to clean the area once more with an iodine antiseptic." She paused as the nurse removed the ice pack and finished that task. "Now I'm going press a little with my fingers and a couple different instruments. I want you to tell me if you can feel it and especially if it hurts. Ready?"

"Yes."

Even when the doctor progressed to pressing a sharp instrument gently against her skin, all Ziva could feel right around the area where the bullet had entered her body was a slight pressure. The ice pack had done the trick and she wasn't having any pain.

"Good. Now, you might feel a little pull as Jane retracts the skin and then I'm going remove the bullet with a pair of tweezers." That was accomplished with minimal effort and everyone but Ziva breathed a sigh of relief. Her breathing stayed even, her attention still fixed on the image of their child.

"I presume this needs to be preserved as evidence?" the doctor asked Gibbs with a lift of her brows, holding the bullet up where it was still trapped between the prongs of the instrument she'd used. There was a distinct flat side on one edge of the ammunition. Ziva must have been right about it ricocheting off something.

He nodded.

Jane already had a sterile container ready and Lil dropped it in. There was a slight _ping_ as the slug made contact with the glass jar. The nurse sealed it up with the accompanying lid and set it to the side.

"Now you'll feel Jane wiping up a little blood that's running down your back. There's not much; nothing to be alarmed about," the doctor informed her patient. The nurse quickly staunched the thin line of red that had begun trickling down Ziva's back when the bullet had been removed from blocking the opening.

"Okay, hard part's over," Dr. Raynor announced with satisfaction. "You're doing great, Ziva. You feeling all right?"

The patient nodded.

"Excellent. Before I sew you up, I'm going to press around with my fingers to make sure none of the bone chipped off under there; I'll take it as easy as I can. After that, I'll swab the area and irrigate inside the wound with alcohol, to make sure there are no flecks of paint or anything else left behind since we think that bullet hit something on its way to you. Hopefully, between the iodine antiseptic and alcohol, we can prevent any need for an antibiotic. Three to four stitches should close it up. Do you need the ice pack reapplied before that?"

"No, I am fine," Ziva responded, suddenly sounding tired and resting more heavily against Gibbs. "I have actually had stitches – and more - in the field without ice or anything else and managed to stay still. You do not need to worry."

She was holding up well, but her abrupt, nearly overwhelming weariness was evident, probably due to a combination of hormones and the crash that was starting after the anxiety and adrenalin rush she'd experienced. It was as though her body sensed they were coming into the home stretch of the procedure and it could finally let its guard down a bit.

Jethro could see the fatigue in her face and hear it in her voice.

"Ya know, Doc, she just might fall asleep on you after all," he joked lightly, but clearly lovingly.

"You try growing a baby and getting shot at the same time," Ziva retorted in mock indignation, rolling her eyes up at him. "You would be tired, too."

"I'll pass," her husband replied, happy to leave the baby growing to her. Thrilled, actually, as he loved knowing she was pregnant with his child. _Their_ child. Then he looked down at her as he said firmly, "And don't you go trying it again, either."

Ziva's lips twitched at their exchange, then her eyes moved back to the ultrasound monitor and all her exhaustion was replaced by awe and excitement.

"Jethro – look! The baby is waving!"

He turned his head quickly. Sure enough, though it could not have been intentional, the baby's little left hand was moving back and forth as though waving at everyone in the room.

Ziva had to blink back happy tears as a full-blown grin graced Jethro's lips.

"Hello, baby," Ziva whispered. "_Shalom_." Of its own volition, her own right hand turned toward the screen as much as it could given the somewhat-awkward position she could not yet move out of, her fingers automatically bending as though waving back.

The medical staff smiled behind their masks and couldn't help but be moved. Gibbs rested his cheek on her crown, holding her close, his gaze fixed with hers on the image of the life they'd created between them.

There was silence for a few moments as Jethro and Ziva watched their baby move. Most everyone else couldn't take their eyes off the two of them.

Dr. Raynor had glanced up at Ziva's exclamation, then returned to her task, the curve of her lips hidden behind her mask. After satisfying herself that the shoulder blade bone was intact and irrigating the wound sufficiently, she prepared to start stitching her patient up.

Denise cleared her throat gently.

"So, Allison, Lil says you owed her a few favors. Care to share?" The ultrasound technician's question was laced with the good humor that exists between people who know each other well and are comfortable together.

Dr. Smith's eyes smiled over her mask. "Actually, she racked up three before I even got out of bed this morning, lucky for me."

Denise lifted a knowing eyebrow, silently questioning _Oh, really? _

Suddenly, Allison gave a slightly embarrassed laugh as she realized how that had sounded. "Not that kind of lucky." She and Lil exchanged a quick, but affectionate glance. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Denise."

"But it's so fun there," the technician pretended to whine.

Everyone else chuckled, including Ziva and Jethro.

"Perhaps we should introduce her to Tony," Ziva observed dryly to her husband, a spark of warm humor in her own eyes. He rolled his as though saying _Lord help us_, but his Gibbs smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.

"As I was saying," Dr. Smith broke in purposefully with a look of mock admonition at Denise, "I had an unexpected delivery around midnight that took a while."

The medical staff understood that was code for _developed complications_, but also knew that Allison didn't want to say that out loud in front of Ziva.

"Lil turned off my alarm so I could sleep in a little longer and brought me coffee in bed just before leaving to take Megan to preschool, even though it was my turn to drive her." She glanced at Jethro and Ziva and added for their benefit, "We're partners and Megan is our three-year-old."

"Three going on thirteen," Lil mumbled, the affection and pride in her voice impossible to miss.

The others smiled.

"Mhm," Allison agreed wryly. "Who right now is undoubtedly successfully convincing our niece Elizabeth to stop at the park or go window shopping after school, along with getting ice cream. With her moms, that's a 50 – 50 shot."

"Let me guess," Denise put in. "Yes if it's Lil and no if it's you and close to dinner?" Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she cast a look in Dr. Raynor's direction.

Allison grinned at her partner. "She's got your number."

"She's not the only one," Lil pretended to grumble, keeping her eyes on her work.

Another chuckle broke out.

"That is how Jethro will be," Ziva predicted, looking up at her husband with unmistakable love in her teasing eyes.

He tried to look affronted, but didn't even pretend to deny it. And if the baby was born with Ziva's eyes ... he really wouldn't stand a chance.

"Least I'll be in good company," Dr. Raynor commented as she finished tying off the last stitch and trimmed the thread before tossing a friendly, commiserating look at Gibbs.

A slight nod of his head accompanied his half-smirk.

"Okay, Jane will cover this with a bandage and then we're all finished back here." Lil wiped her gloved hands on a sterile towel and stepped around to the other side of the bed so she could see Ziva. "You know, this is the most fun I've ever had during a surgery; maybe I should consider keeping my patients awake more often."

Her green eyes telegraphed the grin she directed toward the agents as a ripple of amusement ran around the operating table.

Turning the subject to more serious matters, she continued.

"Everything looks good. I want that wound cleaned with alcohol diluted with sterile saline three times a day for at least the first week; other than that, keep it dry." Dr. Raynor looked at Jethro. "One of your jobs will be to look it over at least that often every day. If you see the least sign of infection – even slightly pink, warm, any drainage – I'll want to see her immediately."

He nodded.

"She can also have an ice pack over the bandage for up to twenty minutes at a time every hour or so to help with the pain and swelling," the surgeon finished.

"While we have you down here, let's go ahead and draw some blood to get your HCG level and a baseline count on your white blood cells," Allison added. "Then we'll do it again in the morning. The hormone level should continue to increase rapidly right now, while an increase in the white blood cells would tell us you're fighting an infection."

She looked at Jane who wordlessly nodded, then walked over and made a call to the lab for a phlebotomist.

"Denise here will be your new best friend," Allison said with a slight smile. "You and the baby both came through the procedure with flying colors, but I've decided to do a quick scan every couple of hours until midnight, then we can go to every four hours if there's no change so you can get at least a little sleep." She looked at Ziva directly, but with compassion. "I really expect everything with the baby will stay fine; I'm more concerned about giving you some peace of mind."

"I do not wish to be a problem, but I appreciate that," Ziva sighed, relaxing into Jethro.

"You're welcome," her obstetrician said warmly. "We'll plan to have you admitted for about twenty-four hours, just to keep you, the baby and the wound under observation, then I imagine you'll be going home." She glanced at Dr. Raynor for confirmation of that plan; the surgeon nodded.

"Here," Denise said to Ziva. "This should hold you over for the next two hours."

She handed Ziva another grainy black and white picture of their baby. Gibbs and Ziva both smiled happily when they saw she'd managed to catch the little one at mid-wave.

"Thank you," Ziva whispered, touching the picture tenderly.

"No problem," the technician said with a wink.

Before long, the blood draw was accomplished and Ziva was comfortably ensconced in a private hospital room near the maternity ward. The choice of room was intentional so that she was in fairly close proximity to the ultrasound technicians and to staff who were well-versed in pregnant women, just in case they were needed.

Ziva was completely exhausted, but both she and Jethro knew their friends needed some reassurance. With their permission, Dr. Raynor gave a brief update to the group gathered in the waiting room, then allowed them a visit, though they were under orders from the surgeon to keep it brief for now. Vance went in first and just stayed a moment; then, without a word as to his destination, went out to find Agent Millin, as he'd promised. Everyone else followed two or three at a time to see the Gibbs family and exchange much needed hugs.

With her right hand resting protectively over her middle and her left clasping her husband's as he kept watch, Ziva drifted off to sleep after the room quieted, a slight curve to her lips as she dreamed of an adorable, waving infant … and in that way dreams had of bringing wishful thinking to life, the little one looked very much like the pictures Jackson had showed her of a baby Jethro.


	9. Taking Care

Around 3:30 a.m., Ziva roused from sleep to find herself snuggled up close against her husband in her hospital bed, her cheek against his shoulder as they lay facing each other. His body was enough on his side that her front was comfortably draped against him, keeping all pressure off her wound.

Her bladder had nudged her awake. After all, it had been nearly three whole hours since she'd last emptied it, she snorted to herself. However, she knew from experience that she needed to get something in her stomach before trying to get up in a fifty-fifty chance of staving off the nausea that was never far away these days.

Moving with all the stealth she could manage, she reached for the crackers Jethro had placed on the tray table near the bed hours earlier. He'd been glad to go in search of them, needing to do something tangible to help her.

She quietly opened the package and took out the two crackers, and then laid her head next to his on the pillow to gaze tenderly at him as she nibbled. She could stare at him for hours.

She smiled inwardly as she thought back over the time since she'd woken from her first nap after being admitted. Making sure she had something to eat and drink at all times hadn't been the only thing he'd done for her. He'd insisted on carrying her to the bathroom every time she needed to go, despite the fact that it was only a few steps away. Her mind drifted back to their exchange the last time she'd needed to go.

_Ziva started to move from the bed._

"_Where you goin'?" he asked, reflexively tightening his arms around her middle._

"_The bathroom – again," she informed him, rolling her eyes._

_He slipped out of bed before she could stand and scooped her up in his arms. She automatically wrapped her arms around his neck, being careful not to strain her right shoulder blade._

"_You do not have to keep carrying me to the bathroom," she pointed out. "You will get tired of it."_

"_Never get tired of holding you for any reason," he informed her firmly, but warmly._

_She hummed out a small happy sigh and laid her head on his shoulder as he carried her. _

_Jethro stood her on her feet just inside the restroom. He splayed his strong hands over her back until he was sure she was steady._

"_Be right here when you're finished," he promised._

_She started to protest that she could walk the handful of steps back to the bed. He laid a finger gently against her lips to silence her, knowing what was coming._

"_Need to take care of you," he husked, his gaze revealing a combination of yearning and love and helplessness. "And there's not much for me to do."_

_Her heart melted as she was moved to take care of his._

"_You have done more than you think," she informed him, her voice thickening with emotion. "You have kept me together when no one else could have, you did not let go of me in the bullpen when I needed you to help me hold the baby inside –" She knew how irrational that sounded and begged him with her eyes to understand what she meant; he reassured her with his that he did. _

_She relaxed and finished._

"_And I have not felt alone even for a moment. Before you, I would have. Even if others were around, wanted to help, they would not have been close enough to really do so. But with you … you are not only beside me. You are in my heart, in the air I breathe … you are always with me. You have given that to me and I love you for it."_

_His half-smile tugged adorably at his lips. "Love you, too."_

_She tugged at his shirt until his face was close enough for her to capture his mouth in a sweet, soft kiss._

_Suddenly, she broke it off._

"_Hold that thought," she directed, one finger in the air. Her eyes were faintly apologetic as that finger turned toward the bathroom. "I really have to …"_

_He gave her a faint grin. "Go ahead."_

_She did her business and washed up, then opened the door to find him exactly where he said he would be. She raised her left arm in silent invitation for him to pick her up, cradling her right protectively against her body so as not to overuse it. He lifted her with a gentleness that made her heart swell._

_Hugging him close, Ziva offered ruefully, "Between the throwing up and the other, perhaps we should just make a bed for me in there." As he settled her in the hospital bed with extreme care, she asked, "Do you have any idea how many times I have gone to the bathroom in the past nine weeks?"_

"_Lost count after the first hundred, somewhere around six weeks ago," he teased with a warm light in his eyes._

_She chuckled. It was true._

"_Speaking of throwing up, you'd better eat a little more since you're still awake," he reminded her. _

_She heaved a little sigh. "I know you are right, but after I eat something, then I will need a drink, and then …" _

_Her eyes twinkled in the low light they'd left on behind the bed._

"_I'll be carryin' ya back to the bathroom."_

_She grinned at his wise prediction and nodded her head._

"_That's okay," he promised, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He glanced over at the bedside table. "Got enough crackers?"_

"_Thanks to you, yes." He'd rounded some up for her earlier, along with some ginger ale. "See? That is something else you have done for me."_

"_It's nothin'," he mumbled._

_Ziva cupped his chin in her hand and gently lifted his face so she could look into his eyes._

"_You are right." She rubbed a thumb over his lower lip, her eyes growing warm. "It is everything."_

"Can feel you staring like you think I'm gonna take that cracker from you," he murmured without opening his eyes, bringing her back to the present.

"You are far too intelligent to get between me and my crackers," Ziva observed. "I am staring because you are so, so gorgeous." She grinned inwardly, waiting for his predictable reaction.

She didn't have long to wait.

He snorted.

"Marine here," he pointed out, cracking one eye open to peer at her.

"Are you implying those two things do not go together?" she asked with mock innocence.

"Not in this package," he replied firmly, closing his eye again.

"My Marine is gorgeous," Ziva demurred with a cheeky undertone before her voice took on an unmistakably possessive affection. "And _you_ are definitely mine."

He opened his eyes to look at her. The emotion heating that blue gaze made her heart thump just a little faster.

"Got that second part right," he agreed, tugging her over for a thoroughly enjoyable kiss.

"Since you are awake," she said after their lips had separated, "perhaps you would provide bathroom transportation?"

He lifted his brows at her in mild surprise. He'd figured she'd try going on her own again.

She brushed the backs of her fingers against his cheek, her eyes fairly glowing with all the love she felt for him … _from_ him.

"You need to take care of us," she explained softly. "And perhaps I need to let you."

Her gentle smile had his heart turning over in his chest.

"Bathroom it is," he responded, his voice raspy with the gratitude and love that was a heady mixture in his eyes. He smoothly rolled to his feet at the side of the bed.

"But do not get too used to it," she suggested, striving for an independent tone.

"I'll try not to," he smirked, "but you should."

Ziva gingerly sat completely up in preparation for her ride to the bathroom. Suddenly, she looked a little green.

"Do you think we could hurry without making the room spin?" she asked, swallowing thickly.

In a heartbeat, he had her in his arms, remaining cognizant of her wound. A few steps took him to the bathroom, where he placed her carefully on her feet.

"Okay?" he asked with concern.

Ziva nodded almost distractedly as she did an internal inventory, trying to decide which she needed to do first: throw up or pee. The stomach was just on the queasy side, so her bladder won out.

He pressed a quick kiss to her hair, wisely nudged the trash can closer to the toilet with his foot so that it was right in front of her, and gave her some privacy.

As she was relieving herself, her stomach lurched and that waste basket came in handy.

_How embarrassing_ she thought, but at least no bodily fluids had hit the floor.

Once her stomach had emptied, she wiped her mouth with some tissue and finished the rest of her business. She moved slowly to the sink and leaned against it for a moment before washing her hands. She then used the toothbrush, paste and mouthwash provided by the hospital to freshen her mouth. Ziva avoided looking into the mirror, certain she didn't want to see what she could do nothing about.

As soon as he heard her finishing at the sink, Gibbs opened the door and stepped in close to her. He'd put everything together from the sounds that had drifted through the door.

Ziva held her arms up as high as she could in unspoken surrender for him to pick her up. As he carried her back to bed, she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Good call on the waste basket," she murmured weakly.

He gave her a gentle version of his trademark smile as he settled her carefully back among the sheets.

"'m sorry this is so rough on you," he husked, smoothing her hair back from her face and tucking one side behind her ear.

"I am not," she admitted surprisingly.

His eyes moved to hers. She was pale, but there was a light in her eyes that spoke of complete contentment. His brows dipped a little in silent question.

"It may be … awkward," she began, searching for words, "to have to throw up and use the bathroom at the same time, but the good news is that it means I am still pregnant."

Now his eyes lit up, too.

"Good point," he congratulated her, dropping a brief kiss to her lips. "Wanna try some ginger ale before Denise comes in?"

Their favorite ultrasound technician should be arriving pretty soon barring any unforeseen circumstances.

She nodded and he moved to her side of the bed to open a new can of the soda and pour some over ice for her to sip. It had less ginger than the tea she brewed for herself at home to help settle her stomach, but it was all Gibbs could find on his earlier hunt and it would have to do.

After a few drinks, she laid her head back on the pillow, cringing from a shooting pain. The force of throwing up tended to cause her bullet wound to throb.

"Time for more ice, too," Jethro observed. She nodded on a sigh.

He left the room to get a new cold pack as Denise came in for their 4 a.m. scan. She promised she'd still be there when he got back so he wouldn't miss the show.

"This'll be the last time you see me today," the technician informed Ziva. "My shift ends at seven. My replacement will be Amy; you'll like her."

"I do not see how we could like her as much as we do you," Ziva disagreed good-naturedly. Then her smile took on a depth of gratitude. "Thank you so much for all you have done, for how much easier you have made this."

"Been my pleasure working with you," Denise informed her with a smile of her own. "Maybe you can have Allison send you back over this way for an ultrasound or two over the next few months rather than doing all of them in her office."

"I will ask her," Ziva promised. She paused, then slowly requested, "Speaking of asking ... I was wondering … would it be possible for you to print an extra picture? I know you have already given us two, but I would like to surprise Jethro with his very own when he least expects it."

Denise grinned. "I think we can handle that," she advised with a wink. "But we'd better do it quick because that man hasn't been far from you for long over the last several hours and he'll be walking back through that door any minute."

Ziva smiled fondly, thinking of her husband. Denise was right.

They quickly got Ziva ready, then brought up the black and white image. Fortunately, the baby was being very cooperative and the technician got a great picture right away. Before she hit print, she typed something Ziva hadn't noticed her do before. When Denise handed her the snapshot, Ziva had to blink back tears.

_Hi, Daddy!_ was typed above the baby's head.

"That is perfect," she husked , reaching out to squeeze the other woman's hand.

"Where you want it so he doesn't find it before you're ready to give it to him?" Denise asked. Ziva's expression drooped a little.

"That is a good question," she admitted. She had very few options with her since she'd arrived at the hospital with literally only the clothes she'd been wearing.

"How about I hang onto it for you and drop it by just before I head home in a while? I'll come up with something." She was clearly delighted to be part of the conspiracy. She'd really enjoyed Ziva and Jethro. While she'd be glad to hear Ziva and the baby were well enough to leave the hospital, she was going to miss them.

"Thank you," Ziva said, handing her back the picture just before Gibbs re-entered the room. Denise immediately, but casually tucked that photo under some papers on her machine and they finished the scan with Jethro holding Ziva's hand and both of them marveling over the view of their child, as excited to see the baby now as they had been hours before. Jethro figured he could look at that image every day.

On the last view, Denise impulsively printed out another picture and handed it to Ziva with a wink just before shutting everything down. Since she knew Gibbs would be getting his own – and intuitively understood that he'd be tickled with this one regardless - this picture said _Hi, Mommy!_

Ziva was mesmerized.

After Denise was finished and had quietly left the room, Gibbs climbed back into bed with his wife. Draping her back over his chest, he gently held the ice to her wound to begin the twenty-minute session with it as she stared at the ultrasound photo she was holding.

"I am going to be someone's mommy," she breathed out faintly. She tilted her head to look up at Jethro, a little panic starting to creep into her gaze. "I am going to be someone's mommy."

"Are," he emphasized, tilting his head toward the picture and her belly. "_Are_ someone's mommy."

"Jethro, what if I am terrible at it?" she worried softly, her brow furrowed adorably.

He smoothed a thumb over her cheek with a faint, understanding smile. "Not gonna be."

"But –"

"But nothin'," he interrupted her firmly, but gently.

"I am not exactly off to a good start," Ziva pointed out with self derision. "What kind of mommy gets herself shot?"

"The protective kind," he answered quietly after a heavy pause. The ghost of a sad smile touched his lips. "The heroic kind."

For a moment, their words reverberated in the now silent room. A faint shadow moved through his eyes as she closed hers in self-recrimination.

"Jethro, I-"

"Shhh," he stopped her. "'s all right."

"No, it is not." Shannon had not taken a bullet herself, but was dead because her driver had. "I did not mean to be insensitive. I was not thinking."

"Don't have to watch everything you say for the rest of our lives, Ziver," he assured her.

"I should be more careful, though. I do not want …" Her voice drifted off.

"Don't want - ?" he prodded.

"I do not want to be the cause of sad memories, especially …" She stopped talking again, her hand unconsciously completing the sentence by covering her tummy protectively.

"About the baby," he finished. She nodded, ducking her head.

"You're not," he tried to reassure her.

She didn't say anything.

"Is it hard for you?" she eventually whispered, a question she'd wondered before, but hadn't had the courage to ask.

"No," he responded immediately and firmly, understanding that she was asking if expecting another child was bringing up more painful memories of Kelly. He tilted her chin up to look at her.

"Some of the sad memories from before aren't ever going away," he said honestly, "but don't think those affect the way I feel about you and our baby. Love both of you; want you both more than I can tell ya." He paused for a moment, gathering another thought. "And, in some ways, you've given me back some of the happier times from before … expecting Kelly, remembering her as a baby and after … and part of the way you've done that is you don't pretend they didn't exist - and you never leave me feeling alone when I'm thinkin' about them."

Ziva blinked back tears at what was perhaps one of the longest, most revealing responses he'd ever made, especially on this subject.

"I am glad," she breathed, closing her eyes and relaxing against him, just resting in the comfortable silence between them for a while.

"Can I tell you something that sounds stupid?" she asked in a voice that was almost too small to hear, not lifting her head from his chest. Her eyes opened, but she didn't look up at him.

He smiled to himself. He doubted it was stupid. "Sure."

"I feel like the baby is a boy," she nearly whispered, "but I have a fifty percent chance of being wrong." Her voice dropped to practically a mumble. "And I do not want to hurt her feelings if the baby is a girl."

She closed her eyes and buried her face more deeply against him with a soft groan.

"That sounds even more ridiculous when I say it out loud."

Jethro's lips twitched. No one could overthink an uncertain situation like his Ziver – 'cept maybe McGee.

Somehow he managed to keep the humor out of his voice as he responded.

"Tell you what," he offered. "You say he and I'll say she. Whoever's wrong can apologize to the baby when we know who's right and say 'good job' on being sneaky."

She snorted and began to relax, just as he'd hoped.

"_You_ would actually apologize?" she asked skeptically, tilting her head back to look up at him.

"In that case, sure." He smiled down at her, massaging her scalp with the hand he had buried in her hair. "In fact, betting against your instincts is never smart, so preparing myself to do it already."

She lightly chuckled and her body all but melted into him.

"Thank you," she added quietly, hugging him with her right arm that was curved across his chest.

"For what?"

"For saying the perfect things to me again." Her hand reached up to caress his face.

Gibbs made no reply, except for wrapping her up a little tighter.

When the time for the ice pack was up, Gibbs laid it on the table by the bed and curled his arms back around his wife. She pressed her lips to his chest, then turned her face up to his. He looked down at her.

"Kiss me," she requested softly. He was only too happy to oblige.

Handling her oh-so-carefully, Jethro brought his mouth to hers gently, softly. They kept the heat dialed back even when her tongue slipped inside his mouth to flirt with his. This wasn't about that. This was about connection … reassurance … caring ... about hands brushing … lips clinging … hearts touching.

After the long, sweet kiss spun out and came to a natural conclusion, Ziva tucked her nose into his throat, breathing in the delicious, familiar smell of him.

"Love you," she sighed sleepily, snuggling in.

"Love you back," he returned, his smile reflected in his voice. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"So glad," she practically mumbled before smothering a yawn. "It appears the baby is getting sleepy again." Her words were running together thickly as that extreme fatigue that could come out of nowhere hit her once more like a truck.

"Then sleep," he urged, his lips curving faintly. "I've got you." _Got both of you._

The last of her tension left at his words and she became boneless against him, falling fast asleep in the space of a few heartbeats.

Gibbs closed his eyes and held her close. His thoughts couldn't help but wander to another woman, another child … bittersweet memories floating randomly through his mind.

For the first time in more than two decades he allowed that he couldn't have known what was coming twenty years ago any more than Shannon could have when she stood up for what was right … any more than he or Ziva could have predicted what yesterday afternoon would hold ... that it was no one's fault that he hadn't been with Kelly and Shannon when the world stopped for all three of them … that he'd missed a lot over the years, truth be told, because of his job as a Marine … that he'd never understand why their lives had been torn asunder because it defied all logical reasoning.

He still felt on some level that he'd failed his first wife and – perhaps even more unforgivably – his daughter, though he could almost hear Shannon disabusing him of that notion, her imagined quiet yet fiery response nudging his lips into a faint curve.

However, for whatever reason, the fates had decreed that he got another chance to have a family and this time he was right here and he intended to stay as close as humanly possible. There would continue to be things out of his control – the horrifying scene in the bullpen proved that. Still, he would stand guard over this woman, this child in every way he could, knowing that he would do everything – anything – to take care of them.

That was all he could do and, for now, that was enough.


	10. Sugar & Spice

_A/N:__ This chapter comes with a belated HAPPY BIRTHDAY shout to Sehrezad and Woody2792. Thanks to you both for your patience as RL is doing its best to keep me swamped. *HUGS* =)_

* * *

Gibbs and Ziva stirred again near 7 a.m. when carts carrying breakfast trays began rattling down the hospital corridors. Shortly after, the nursing assistant came in to take one more round of vital signs before the shift change, completing the process of bringing them awake.

After she left, Ziva ate more crackers and managed to get to the bathroom under Jethro's power without throwing up.

Their nurse for this shift, Laurie, came in about a half-hour later and introduced herself. She informed Ziva that her breakfast would arrive soon and provided the unnecessary reminder that she was scheduled for her next ultrasound at 8 a.m. She saw Ziva's uncertain look at the mention of the morning meal.

"Getting sick easily these days, are you?" she asked knowledgably, compassionately.

Ziva nodded.

"Well, I can tell you that the patient food tends to be on the bland side. Some people complain about that, but it might actually be to your advantage." Her eyes twinkled good-naturedly.

Ziva huffed out a light chuckle though her nose and agreed.

"Need anything right now?" Laurie asked.

Ziva shook her head, then glanced at Jethro who'd slid off the bed to sit in the nearby chair when the assistant had come in to check her blood pressure and the like.

"My husband will need coffee sooner than later, though." The gleam in her own eyes was impish, but all-knowing.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, despite knowing she was right.

"I'll bring you a cup from the staff lounge," the nurse offered generously. "It's not Starbuck's, but we always keep it fresh because we drink it all day and all night. Plus, one of the doctors on this floor keeps us well-stocked in a better brand than what the hospital provides and it's pretty good."

"Don't go to any trouble," Gibbs protested lightly. "I'll get some in a while."

Meaning _after the ultrasound_.

"It's no trouble," Laurie assured him with a smile. "I'll get it right now before things get hopping." She glanced at the now-melted ice pack lying off to the side. "I'll bring a fresh one of those, too, so you have it when you need it."

On her way out the door, she turned back with a look, taking Gibbs' measure. "I'm guessing black - am I right?"

He nodded with a tug at the side of his mouth. Ziva was the patient and he didn't want to cause anyone extra work, but he really would appreciate a cup of his life-sustaining brew, to be honest.

Laurie returned soon with a couple of small Styrofoam cups and the promised cold pack. "This is all we had to put the coffee in, so I brought you two."

Gibbs thanked her and was pleasantly surprised at the taste. Her departure was closely followed by the arrival of Ziva's breakfast tray, which included oatmeal, toast, jello, milk and decaffeinated hot tea. At least Laurie had been right: not much there to get her stomach rolling.

Before Ziva could begin eating, they were joined by the new ultrasound technician. She was a petite young woman named Amy who had her brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She was friendly and competent, readying both mother and machine with minimal fuss.

"Sorry about interrupting your breakfast," she apologized as she worked.

"Do not be," Ziva assured her. "I am a little nervous that I will get queasy as soon as I start to eat. Besides …"

She cast a dubious look at the tray, effectively communicating her thoughts on how it would taste.

Amy caught her look and grinned. "Yeah, it's not exactly the most exciting stuff, though it's better than other hospitals I've been in. Did they bring you oatmeal?"

The smell – or lack thereof – had given it away. Ziva nodded.

"Any concerns with your blood sugar?" Amy asked, seemingly off topic.

Ziva shook her head with a slight furrow to her brow.

"I know where I can find some brown sugar and maybe even some cinnamon," Amy shared conspiratorily. "I'll check with your nurse to make sure it's okay, then bring you some. It should spice up that oatmeal."

Ziva's eyes lit up. "Thank you."

"No problem," Amy smiled.

Gibbs and Ziva were both excited to see their baby again this morning, so Amy began the scan without delay. He – or she, Jethro reminded her with a twinkle in his eye that made her grin – was happily moving around this morning, apparently having gotten a good night's rest.

Just before the technician finished, there was a light knock on the door. It opened a little and Denise poked her head inside the room.

"This a private party or can anyone join?" she grinned.

"You are not just anyone," Ziva declared. "You are certainly welcome."

Denise smiled with pleasure and came on in.

"Checking up on me, hmmm?" Amy asked her senior technician with a wink. The younger woman had already been briefed on this case by Denise. She'd been given to understand just how special this couple and their situation was; after only working with them for a short time, she completely agreed.

"Gotta make sure my favorite patients are being well taken care of," Denise responded with a wink that encompassed all the others in the room.

"Everything is looking good," Amy assured them all. "The baby seems to have taken up dancing this morning."

Everyone smiled. Gibbs was holding onto his wife's hand and he raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

"I know it is too early to feel any movement, but it is amazing to see the arms and legs moving around and yet I cannot feel it inside," Ziva shared as she squeezed Jethro's fingers, her gaze fixed on the screen.

Amy finished up and said she'd be back in a few minutes. "I'm going to find her some brown sugar and cinnamon for that oatmeal," she explained, tilting her head toward Ziva's tray. Denise's eyes followed.

"Good call," she congratulated her with feeling.

The others chuckled.

Before long, she did indeed return with the sugar and spice. After pointing out that she'd see them again in four hours unless the doctor's orders changed, she left.

"No telling when they'll bust you out of this place today," Denise observed, "so I thought I'd drop off a little reading material."

She handed Ziva a _Fit Pregnancy_ magazine with a meaningful glance.

"Figured you probably have a book at home on what to expect over the weeks of the pregnancy," Denise began.

"Or three," Jethro interrupted dryly, referring to the stack of books on Ziva's bedside table. His wife stuck her tongue out at him when he smirked at her. He just grinned, while Denise laughed.

"But, imagine you'll find something interesting in there," the technician added, nodding toward the magazine. _Ah_, Ziva thought. That is where the "daddy" picture was hiding. Brilliant, even if she could not say so out loud.

"And here," Denise continued, handing a book to Gibbs. "Thought maybe you'd like this. It was written by a buddy of my brother's who served in the Corps with him. We carry it in the gift shop downstairs. My brother read it when he and his wife were expecting their first and said it was great."

Jethro held the book out at arm's length and read the title. _The Expectant Father_. Yep, that was him, he thought with an inner kick of satisfaction.

"Thanks," he said with a small smile before walking to the closet in the room to remove his reading glasses from the inner pocket of his jacket. Sitting back down, he slipped on the glasses and immediately became engrossed in reading the back cover and the table of contents.

Both women smiled at the picture he made.

After goodbyes and best wishes all around, Denise left to finally head home. It had been a very long double shift, but it had also been one that reminded her why she loved her job.

"You do not have to read that, Jethro," Ziva said softly into the comfortable silence that settled on the room after they were alone. He cast his gaze at her over his glasses. "Denise does not know that this is not your first time with all of this."

Gibbs laid the book on her bedside table, resting his glasses on top of it. Rising from his chair, he took the couple of steps necessary to lean over her, bracing his arms on either side of her.

"Missed a lot the first time around," he started quietly. "Don't want to miss anything this time."

He dropped a brief kiss to her lips which she returned with a soft pucker.

"Besides, don't know if I'd've been smart enough to read a book like that back then, even if it had been around," he admitted. "Lookin' forward to reading it."

Ziva's heart melted, which was reflected in her eyes. She raised her fingers to his cheek, her look communicating her gratitude and warmth. Her gaze roamed his face, tracing the handsome features that had become beyond precious to her.

"I love you," she whispered, those big brown eyes of hers filled with emotion.

"Love you, too," Gibbs smiled tenderly. He placed a gentle hand on her hip, his thumb brushing back and forth over the still-flat plane of her stomach. "Both of you."

Her smile made his heart turn over in his chest.

"You should get some breakfast and some more coffee," Ziva fussed over him in a voice still husky with feeling. "You have not eaten anything since lunch yesterday."

"Don't usually eat breakfast," he reminded her, then he smirked at himself. "Well, not for breakfast."

"I know, but you should eat something," she insisted. Then her eyes teased him. "After all, you must keep up your strength so you can keep carrying me to the bathroom every five minutes."

She felt his smile as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Of course, you could always share my 'delicious' oatmeal," she offered magnanimously, tongue in cheek. She grinned at the grimace he couldn't quite stop.

Despite the unappetizing sound of her meal, his stomach rumbled, further making her point that it was time for him to eat, too. Still, he was clearly uncertain about leaving her.

"What if I promise that I will not try to go to the bathroom without you? Then would you go?" Her eyes gleamed with self-deprecating humor. "Though perhaps you should not take too long."

His characteristic grin tugged at his lips, but he still didn't take her up on her suggestion. Then she added the one thing guaranteed to get him to move from her side.

"Besides, I could use more crackers and ginger ale while you are out and about." Her supply had become seriously depleted.

With that, he caved. He couldn't not do something that would take care of her. "Okay."

He dropped another quick kiss to her lips before leaving. When he would have kept it brief, she fisted the front of his shirt in her left hand so he couldn't move away. Lifting her head from the pillow, she captured his mouth in a sizzling kiss that went deep and seductive in the space of a pounding heartbeat. She didn't pull back until the need for oxygen demanded she do so, flicking her tongue tantalizingly along his lower lip as she slowly removed it from his mouth. As she looked into his bedazzled expression, satisfaction rolled through her. She had rocked him to his toes.

After swallowing hard, he managed, "Not that I'm complainin', but what was that for?"

"So you remember who you belong to while you are out there wandering the hallways looking so handsome," she informed him proprietarily.

"In these?" he practically snorted, tilting his chin down toward his borrowed clothing.

"Mmhmm," she nodded, running an appreciative hand over his chest, lingering where a few tufts of salt and pepper hair peeked out of the V neck. He'd had to remove his t-shirt when he changed for her surgery. "They even match your eyes." Her brown-eyed gaze twinkled up at him.

Now he did snort and her lips twitched.

"In fact, you wear these scrubs well enough to be a doctor yourself," she advised cheekily, "or at least play one on TV."

The shake of his head was accompanied by an even louder snort this time and she grinned before schooling her expression.

"It is not fair, you know," she practically pouted with a mock scowl, "you get to wear this and look so very attractive while I am stuck wearing this." She pointed to her obligatory hospital gown in disgust. The sad-excuse-for-clothing left her feeling even more unattractive then she already felt, certain she looked worse for wear after the gunshot, surgery and frequent throwing up.

"You look beautiful," he insisted, bumping his nose against hers.

Now it was her turn to snort.

Then he leaned in close and murmured against her ear.

"'stead of looking at the gown, I just imagine you naked. Works every time."

Her delighted laugh brought out his characteristic smile as he pressed a kiss to _that spot_ on her throat that never failed to make her breath catch.

"Mmmm … there is that smooth talk again," she all but purred as she arched into his touch, "the same that got me into bed with you on both of our 'first' dates."

"And look where that got you," he joked wryly. "Stuck with me."

"Lucky me," she husked, caressing his jaw with her fingertips.

He started to disagree with her, but she stopped his words by rubbing a gentle finger across his lips. She gazed into his face, with all the love she felt for him on display. Then she lightened the mood.

"Of course, you _did_ get me out of the deal," she pointed out with mock arrogance.

He grinned.

"And I'm keepin' ya," he swore.

"Promise?" she whispered, a wave of emotion suddenly crashing over her.

Darn hormones.

"Promise." He sealed it with a soft, clinging kiss that lasted until her stomach growled loudly enough to be heard out in the hall. They pulled apart with identical chuckles.

"Guess the baby's hungry," Gibbs observed. "You'd better eat that oatmeal."

She wrinkled her nose in distaste, but resigned herself to her less-than-appetizing fate.

With one last kiss and a promise to come back soon, Gibbs left on his errand, determined to get back to her side as quickly as possible. After all, he didn't want to miss anything.

* * *

_A/N 2: I own nothing with regard to NCIS, these characters, Starbuck's, Fit Pregnancy magazine or The Expectant Father. The last is a real book, by the way, written by Armin A. Brott & Jennifer Ash. _

_And raise your hand - or give a shout in your review =D (yes, shameless encouragement there) - if you get the reference to Mark Harmon playing a doctor on TV. I couldn't resist! *snort* :D  
_


	11. Mercy Rules

_A/N:__ This chapter comes with a HAPPY BIRTHDAY shout to my dear friend Sarah Withers. *HUGS!* It's even still your birthday on this side of the pond. =)_

_I realized recently that I've taken 10 chapters to cover about 18 hours - holy buckets! That's a record, even for me. Apparently I've turned into my dear hearts gosgirl and NotYetLostFaith *ducks with devilish grin* - at least I'm in good company LOL! :D I promise we're not going to cover the entire pregnancy in such hourly detail.  
_

_For now, please read and enjoy, and do feel free to review. :)  
_

* * *

Ziva resolutely pulled the table holding her breakfast tray closer and lifted the lid off the bowl.

"I hope you appreciate this, baby," she said to her middle, eyeballing the rapidly-cooling cereal with some trepidation.

She doctored it with the brown sugar and cinnamon Amy had filched for her, along with some of the milk on her tray. She was pleased to find it actually wasn't too bad fixed up that way and she was happy that her stomach tolerated it well. Ziva made quick work of it, along with her toast and jello. She had just settled back in the bed to leisurely sip her mug of tea when a light knock came on her closed door. She looked up in some surprise, knowing that Jethro would not have knocked and the nursing staff would have entered directly after heralding their arrival with a tap.

"Come in," she called, setting her cup on the table and sitting up a little straighter in the bed.

A beautiful, very pregnant woman walked in, closely followed by Special Agent Millin. The woman was actually a little taller than he was, with a long, lean build and light mocha-colored skin. Her long dark hair had been straightened at the crown, then hung over her shoulders and part-way down her back in fat ringlets that had been finger-combed to frame her face in lovely waves. She was a perfect foil for her partner's sturdier, but well-defined build and dark brown skin.

"Agent Millin," Ziva said with a small, friendly smile. "This is a surprise."

He shifted on his feet and glanced away from her eyes, obviously more than a little uncomfortable.

"I – That is, we don't want to bother you," he began, before he was gently interrupted by his wife.

"What he's trying to say is that I made him stop by on our way to work, though he's not so sure it's a good idea," she said with a warmly humorous light in her eyes that was impossible not to like. She held out her hand to shake Ziva's. "Hi. I'm Veronica Millin, Trent's wife."

"Ziva David Gibbs." The two women shook on their introductions before Ziva tugged her fingers through her hair self-consciously. "Please excuse me – I must look a mess."

"Girl, please," Veronica said firmly. "You've been shot and forced to wear one of those tasteless hospital gowns. If you looked any better than you do right now, I _might_ have to hurt you." Her eyes twinkled infectiously.

"Ronnie," Agent Millin protested mildly, sure that she was going to get his ass kicked, if not by the woman in the bed, then certainly by her husband who would undoubtedly be appearing any minute.

Ziva chuckled and any awkwardness was immediately dispensed with.

"Do not worry, Agent Millin," Ziva assured him with a genuine smile. "Your wife just made my morning."

He looked relieved and grateful for the reassurance.

"It's Trent. How are you?" he asked softly.

"Fine," Ziva responded. When both of them raised a brow in disbelief, she relented. "All right – perhaps not quite fine, but as well as can be expected, all things considered." She laid her hand on her tummy. "And, more importantly, the baby is holding up even better than I am."

The relief on his face nudged her heart.

"Glad to hear it," he husked after clearing his throat. "Agent David Gibbs, I –"

"Please, call me Ziva," she invited when his voice trailed off, uncertain of quite what to say.

"The man was here yesterday until Director Vance let him know that everything went all right with your surgery, but he hardly slept all night," Veronica spoke up softly, but determinedly. "He has this crazy idea that this was all his fault."

Just as Ziva started to set him straight on that point, the door to her room opened and Jethro walked in carrying a tall cup of coffee in one hand and a small tray loaded with crackers, a blueberry muffin and ginger ale in the other.

He'd been gone a little longer than he'd planned as he'd unexpectedly run into an old buddy of his he'd served with decades ago, Brad Williams – though it was Dr. Williams these days. Brad had been a Hospital Corpsman with the US Navy who'd gone to medical school after his service. Drawn to its focus on helping life come into the world, he'd decided to specialize in obstetrics and was on staff at Bethesda, recently placed in charge of the Labor and Delivery unit. Both men had been pleasantly surprised to see each other. When the doctor had learned why the guy he'd known as Gunny was at the hospital, he'd promised to stop by Ziva's room to meet her if time allowed. Just in case Ziva was released before he had a chance to visit, he'd given Jethro one of his cards.

While in the cafeteria, Gibbs had impulsively added the muffin to his purchases in an effort to brighten Ziva's breakfast, as she had a weakness for the blueberry ones. He'd quickly wolfed down an egg sandwich on the move as he headed back, as he hadn't wanted to be gone any longer than he already had been and wasn't too sure of how the smell from it would sit with Ziva's stomach. He froze momentarily when he saw his wife's visitors.

Ziva couldn't help but smile as soon as she saw him, then noted the way he and Trent both stiffened slightly at the sight of the other. Jethro gave him a fairly mild version of the Gibbs Stare, while the younger man looked everywhere but at the team leader. Ziva quickly and accurately surmised some idea of what all this was about, including the comment Veronica had made just as Gibbs walked in the door.

"Jethro," she said warmly, the curve of her lips never faltering. She held out her hand and he came to the bed, setting the tray and his coffee on the nightstand. "Come meet Veronica, Agent Millin's wife. It is very nice that they stopped in to check on us, yes?"

Gibbs took her hand and returned the gentle pressure he felt, deciphering her silent, affectionate admonition correctly. _Be nice. _He released her hand just long enough to reach across to the other woman. "Jethro Gibbs."

She shook his hand briefly, but firmly. "Trent speaks highly of you, Special Agent Gibbs." Her husband looked a little embarrassed, but Ronnie continued to hold Jethro's gaze confidently, the protectiveness of a lioness banked in her eyes. Jethro'd seen that look before – coming from his wife. He had to admire the woman's backbone already. "I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, but I thought it was important to see how Ziva is doing today. Somehow Trent got the idea that he is completely at fault for the terrible thing that happened yesterday, but it's my opinion that sometimes we can't see everything clearly in the middle of a crisis. Wouldn't you agree?"

Ziva squeezed her husband's hand reassuringly.

"You are obviously a very intelligent woman, Veronica," Ziva broke in smoothly with a friendly smile. "You mentioned you were on your way to work – what is it that you do?"

Releasing Jethro's gaze, Ronnie looked at Ziva and went along with the obvious glide into smoother waters without missing a beat.

"I'm a kindergarten teacher," she answered with an expression that said she loved what she did. Then she looked down at her swollen belly and laid a loving hand on it. "Well, for another couple of months, anyway. We're planning for me to stay home with the baby after that."

"When are you due?" Ziva couldn't help but ask.

"In about eight weeks," Ronnie answered, "though if this little one keeps growing like this –"

She broke off suddenly as a firm kick came from inside her tummy that everyone could actually see. Ziva's eyes widened. She'd never been this close to another pregnant woman and it had never occurred to her that there would be a point when you could actually see the baby's movements under the skin, even through clothing.

"Okay, okay, I get the message," Veronica said to her tummy, rubbing it gently where the baby had kicked. She explained to the others, "She –"

"Or he," her husband chimed in. A grin pulled at his mouth when she rolled her eyes and looked over at Ziva and Jethro.

"We decided not to find out the gender, but I'm feeling girl," she confided.

"And I'm just covering all the bases," Trent added.

Jethro and Ziva shared a knowing smile that spoke volumes.

"We had a very similar conversation last night, hmmm?" Ziva asked her husband with a smile and another squeeze of his hand.

He gave a single nod to the side in that way he had.

"Anyway," Veronica continued, "the baby doesn't seem to like it when I talk about how big she …" She tossed a look at her husband. "… or he is getting."

Another kick promptly came and everyone laughed, even Jethro.

"See what I mean?"

Ziva's eyes were glued to the other woman's belly, not even realizing the questions hanging in her brown-eyed gaze.

There was a momentary, but not uncomfortable pause in the conversation.

"Here, give me your hand," Veronica said softly, easily. She held hers out encouragingly and just smiled as Ziva's startled gaze swung to hers. "There might be another one coming."

Slowly, unable to help herself, Ziva lifted her hand and Veronica placed hers over the back of it. She then gently pressed Ziva's palm between her belly and her own hand as they waited for the baby to cooperate.

"Come on down there," Ronnie said to her stomach, pressing their hands in a little harder in an attempt to nudge the baby. "Kick for Mommy."

Before long, Ziva felt the hoped-for movement under her hand and a gasp of wonder and excitement caught in her throat. She looked at Veronica's belly, then up at the other woman's fairly glowing face.

"That is incredible," she breathed, her gaze dropping back to where her hand was still pressed against Veronica's stomach. "I believe the books said I should be able to feel my baby move between four and five months, yes?"

Ronnie nodded. "I was nineteen weeks, but it felt kind of like a flutter at first."

Ziva's fingers pushed gently against the other woman's swollen abdomen. "It is harder than I thought it would be." Then she realized how that sounded and laughed somewhat nervously. "I am sorry – that was so rude."

"No, you're right," Veronica said, unfazed. "Surprised me, too, the first time I felt my sister's stomach when she was pregnant. Guess it's one more layer of protection from Mother Nature." Then her eyes gleamed with humor. "Or the skin's just stretched so tight you could bounce a quarter off it."

Once again, all four of them chuckled.

Ziva somewhat reluctantly pulled her hand away.

"Thank you," she said softly to her new friend, "for sharing."

"You're welcome," Veronica returned with a smile. "I'd better get to work and we'll let you get some rest. Are they letting you out of here soon?"

"Hopefully later today," Ziva answered.

"I'm sure you'll be glad for that; it's hard to get decent sleep in a hospital. It was nice meeting you, Ziva." She glanced up at Jethro. "And you, Agent Gibbs."

"Just Gibbs," he responded with a half-smile. "Nice meeting you, too."

The two women exchanged phone numbers, deciding they would like to stay in touch and Ronnie instructed Ziva to let her know if there was anything they could do once she'd been released. Just before they turned to leave, Trent looked at Ziva.

"I'm glad you and the baby are all right," he said quietly, earnestly. "I can't say how sorry I am about what happened."

Ziva reached out and touched his forearm lightly. "Thank you, but you do not need to apologize. You are not to blame. Besides, Jethro has a rule about that." She looked up at her husband with a tender smile. "Never apologize, yes?"

"Rule Six," he relented enough to add.

The Millins said their final goodbyes and headed out the door. Jethro watched them leave with conflicting emotions on his face until he felt his wife tug on his hand.

"Go tell him what he needs to hear," she directed softly, gently. "I will be right here."

With a reassuring smile, she nudged him out the door.

Gibbs stepped into the hallway.

"Agent Millin," he called out.

The couple stopped just a little ways down the hall and turned back to him.

He walked up to them.

"Look, about yesterday," he started.

"It's all right, Agent Gibbs," Trent interrupted. "Believe me, I get it."

And the feeling in his eyes underscored that point as he glanced at his own wife.

"It's not all right," Gibbs disagreed. "I was just …" He closed his eyes for a moment as his mind went back to the terror that had been magnified by being separated from Ziva. A sigh escaped him. "I was out of line."

"Careful, Gibbs," Millin said daringly. "Think you're in danger of breaking Rule Six – at least in spirit."

His eyes gleamed and Jethro's characteristic smile tugged at one corner of his mouth with pleased surprise.

"Ah, but see I'm covered by Rule Fifty-One," he reassured the younger man with a faint twinkle in his own eye that gradually became more serious. "Sometimes you're wrong."

His words hung meaningfully in the air between them for a moment.

"Takes a good man to admit that," Veronica observed. "Guess Trent's gut was right about you." She smiled at her husband. "But then his gut reactions rarely miss."

Jethro smiled slightly before his face sobered. "About every time I close my eyes, I see it all happen again." He paused. Trent didn't interrupt; he just bet the man did. "Now that I know Ziva and the baby are all right, there's one part I remember that I didn't before." He looked the young agent straight in the eye. "Soon as that dirtbag started swinging that gun toward her, you jumped to take him down. I won't forget that." He paused for significance. "You shouldn't either."

Trent opened his mouth, then closed it. He wasn't sure what to say.

"He's right," Veronica said, bumping his shoulder with hers. Then she smiled at Jethro. "Thank you, Gibbs."

"Thanks for stopping by." Gibbs was surprised himself at how much he meant that. "And for …" He glanced back toward Ziva's doorway. "Ziva, she doesn't have a lot of experience in the baby department. And me … it's been a lifetime." He looked at Veronica with gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks for what you did back there."

"No need to thank me," Veronica denied without hesitation. "I enjoyed talking to her. We were stationed in San Diego while Trent was in the Navy, then we moved here not too long ago when he was accepted into the training for NCIS. Between working and setting up our house, I haven't had a chance to make many friends and we don't have any family nearby. I'd like to keep in touch."

Gibbs gave a nod and headed back toward Ziva. He paused, his own gut poking him about something. Turning back, he called out one more time.

"Hey, Millin."

The younger man turned around with a question on his face.

"How'd you figure out where to find that suspect?"

Trent shrugged. "Agent Reynolds and I –"

"Not Reynolds' version," Gibbs cut him off. "The truth."

Millin paused.

"I was going back over the case files and … it was almost more like what _wasn't_ there than what was, ya know?" Jethro nodded. He knew. Trent finished, "Just a hunch, I guess."

Gibbs nodded in satisfaction.

"That's good work," he offered in rare praise. Then he gruffed, "Now get back to it."

"Yes, sir," Agent Millin said, a new light in his eyes as he squared his shoulders, no longer bearing the weight of the world on them.

As Gibbs walked back to where his wife was waiting for him he decided maybe he needed another rule. Number Fifty-Two: Don't call me "sir."

After all, a guy who'd managed to get a woman like Ziva to not only fall in love, but also make a baby with him couldn't be _that_ damn old.


	12. Coming Home

_A/N: My apologies for the delay in posting as RL met with a difficult muse. Well, perhaps the muse wasn't exactly being difficult ... perhaps I just wasn't listening openly enough to the story as the chapter you are about to read ended up being very different than I thought it would be. I love it, though, and hope you will, too. A tissue warning - in a good way! - is in order, so consider it said. :)_

_I still have reviewers I am responding to; please know that I will be in touch. In the meantime, here's an extra HUG to all of you who take that extra step in the reading process. A shout-out goes to Dolphtat & Anastasia0987 who PM'd me asking about the order of the Revelations universe stories. Your interest warmed my heart. A suggestion was made to post that on my bio page and I'll do that.  
_

_I will be away from a computer for most of the weekend. Should I admit that I hope to come back to lots of reviews? ;) _

* * *

Later that night, Ziva was lying completely at ease on the couch in their living room, waiting for Jethro to return from the basement. It was an unseasonably cool night for this time of year, so they had impulsively decided to have a fire in the fireplace and relax in front of it after eating the dinner Abby had dropped off for them.

Ziva released an audible, contented sigh as she watched the flames dance. It was good to be home.

Dr. Raynor had paid them a visit mid-morning and checked out the wound. She was pleased that there was no sign of infection and said she'd see them in ten days to remove the stitches. She reminded Jethro to check the wound closely for any changes every day and to help Ziva keep it clean and dry. She also did not plan on releasing the agent to work until she could pull her weapon without hesitating from even a twinge of pain, so she told Ziva to plan on being off for at least four weeks, maybe more like six.

Ziva hadn't thought that far ahead, but was a little taken aback at the length of time she would be off work for such a small wound. She wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.

Dr. Smith then stopped by early afternoon and gave them the good news that the repeat blood work that had been done that morning had come back exactly as she'd hoped: Ziva's HCG levels were on the rise and her white blood cell numbers were holding steady at a normal count. The ultrasounds further showed that there was no change with the baby and that everything was just fine. However, she pointed out that it just made sense for Ziva to take it easy for a while – including using the bedroom just for resting – and that they'd keep close tabs on her for another couple of weeks. She asked them to make an appointment to see her in about seven days, and told them she'd take care of getting the discharge paperwork started.

Before she left, Ziva succeeded in getting the doctor to convince Jethro that she could walk to the bathroom – and elsewhere – on her own, though the obstetrician also suggested that her patient might not want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"A few months from now when your feet are swollen and the baby is putting pressure on your back, you may wish he was carrying you around," Allison predicted with a twinkle in her eye.

Ziva's gaze swung to her husband, her eyes a little wide. She who normally ran five miles in under an hour would get to the point where she wouldn't even want to walk?

Gibbs smiled reassuringly and pressed a kiss to her check.

"Carry you then, too," he murmured for her ears only before straightening again.

He put just enough good humor in his voice to settle her and she pressed the hand that was holding hers in gratitude. Yes, he would, if she needed him to.

But surely she wouldn't … would she?

Tony had volunteered to give them a ride home when it was time, given that they'd both arrived at the hospital in the ambulance. He came soon after Gibbs called him, bringing a bag with comfortable clothes for Ziva that Abby had gone to their house to pack and an entire peach cobbler from Elaine at the diner. It was still warm, as though it had only recently been removed from the oven. The couple was surprised at the dessert.

"Well, it was the least I could do since McGee ate yours," he informed them regarding the piece that had been left forgotten on Ziva's desk. Two pairs of eyebrows raised in question.

"McGee?" Ziva asked in disbelief.

"Well, he does have a history of that kind of thing, you know," Tony tried, referring to the time Tim had eaten Abby's delicious chocolate cupcake that had been a gift from Ziva.

Both Gibbs and Ziva pinned him with identical stares, under which the Very Special Agent caved.

"All right, all right!" he admitted, throwing his hands up in the air. "It was me. But it's not my fault."

Without a word, the couple waited expectantly for the explanation for _that_.

"I was stress-eating for three," he explained, motioning to himself and the two of them. Then he looked at Ziva's middle. "And a half."

Ziva's light, delighted laugh was the best sound Tony had heard in more than a day. He grinned unrepentantly and even Jethro's lips twitched.

His partner decided that Tony could be forgiven since he'd sweet-talked Elaine into providing a new cobbler - a whole pan at that – but DiNozzo still earned himself a Gibbs-slap for even attempting to throw McGee under the bus.

Given that the expectant mother's stomach was blessedly calm at the moment, they each indulged in a piece while waiting for the hospital paperwork to be finished. Before leaving, Jethro delivered the rest of the cobbler to the staff that had taken such good care of them, much to their delight.

Bringing her mind back to the present, Ziva reached out a hand and traced it lightly over one of the picture albums lying on the low table in front of her that Jethro had pulled out of the attic before they snuggled on the couch together. She could not put into words how much it meant to her that he'd brought them out for the two of them to look through together.

She had not asked, but it had just felt right to him to share more pictures of Kelly with her. The only ones she'd ever seen had been the ones from the newspaper two decades ago that she'd seen for herself before arriving in the States and the few they'd gone through from his memory box that evening more than a year ago in the botanical garden. His collection was made up of the ones Shannon had mailed to him from time to time when he was deployed, but she'd been diligent about taking lots of photos over the years and putting them into albums so Gibbs could experience some of what he'd missed when he returned.

He hadn't touched them since the day Mike had helped him pack up his former life and put everything in the attic – then sat with his Probie as Gibbs drank until he couldn't think, couldn't feel for a while.

Ziva had looked at him in surprise when he sat beside her with a couple of the books documenting his daughter's earliest years. Knowing instinctively what he held in his hands, she'd gazed into his eyes and wordlessly given him permission to do this another time, if ever. He'd just given her his patented smile in return and pressed a kiss to her forehead, silently reassuring her that this was his decision and he was okay.

And he was.

Maybe he was even better than okay.

Even if his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.

Then he concentrated on the feel of his wife pressed snugly up against his side, the smell that was uniquely her, and he could breathe again.

His heart then smiled as he looked at baby Kelly and gently touched his finger to a photo. Ziva couldn't help but do the same, as though she could absorb the essence of the beautiful little girl through her fingertips. She marveled out loud at the tiny hands with long fingers that reminded her of Jethro's, the tiny feet and toes. Gibbs smiled at her reaction, glad he'd listened to his gut on this.

They slowly turned the pages, watching as Kelly began to grin … to sit up … to crawl. Ziva gasped, then chuckled as Jethro shared the story of the first time Shannon learned Kelly could crawl: she'd returned from a quick trip to the kitchen to find their daughter halfway up the stairs. She'd rushed to grab the little girl, but Kelly had protested so forcefully at being picked up that her mother had reluctantly placed her back on the steps and stood guard closely as her daughter slowly, but with strong determination made her way to the very top. When she got there, Kelly sat up and looked so proud of herself that Shannon had been forced to laugh – and think of her husband.

And then she'd promptly gone out and bought a baby gate.

Ziva observed that Kelly may have inherited her lovely red hair from her mother, but she'd clearly gotten her blue eyes and stubborn willpower from her father. Gibbs didn't even try to deny it and, in fact, seemed almost absurdly pleased.

By unspoken agreement, they'd paused at the end of the first book after Kelly had learned to walk and had smeared birthday cake all over herself and her daddy's face as she tried to feed them both on her first birthday. There was no need to rush, no need to push the remembering further than felt comfortable for him – well, as comfortable as it got. After all, they hopefully had a lifetime of sharing in front of them.

After resting quietly for a while with Ziva against his chest, Gibbs made another decision. Dropping a quick kiss to her hair, he said he'd be right back and disappeared down into the basement without explanation.

She'd felt him thinking, but figured he'd tell her what was on his mind whenever he was ready.

Before long he was back and Ziva smiled up at him quizzically when she saw he had an old tape player in his hand.

"Thought we'd have some music before bed," he said almost gruffly, but not unkindly, rousing her curiosity further when he wouldn't look her in the eye.

She sat up to make room for him again. This time he stretched full out on the couch and draped Ziva gently over him, hugging her as tightly as he dared while remaining cognizant of her wound. She didn't know it yet, but he needed her touching as much of him as possible.

Reaching out, he pressed play.

The sounds of unmistakably-young fingers playing a piano filled the quiet in the room. Ziva went completely still as she realized they were listening to Kelly on that tape. Slowly, she melted into the man beneath her, certain she had never loved him more than at that moment.

Silent tears trickled down her cheeks as she heard Kelly talk to her daddy, heard Shannon tell her husband he was missed. Unconsciously, she smoothed her hand gently over the near-middle of his chest as though tending to the unseen, only partially-healed wound on his heart. After the last song had been followed by goodbyes and "We love you!" silence reigned once more.

Without a word, Gibbs reached out and pushed the stop button. Ziva closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to his chest, attempting to regain some composure before tilting her head to look up at him with eyes that still sparkled like diamonds with the tears that had yet to fall.

Moisture was pooled in his own blue eyes as he gave her a small smile that was a little uncertain, a little lost. She raised her fingers to gently caress his face and instantly grounded him. Her heart gave a happy little leap when she sensed him relax under her once more, felt his grip tighten in gratitude, holding onto her like the lifeline she was.

He couldn't say that he'd thought of the tape while they were looking at pictures and that it didn't sit well with him that the only other person still alive who'd heard it was Hollis, when she'd poked her nose where it had never belonged. After she'd left that night, he'd put the small black player high up at the back of a shelf, safe from prying ears. He hadn't intentionally kept it hidden from Ziva once they'd become a couple, but he hadn't shared it with her, either. Knowing she was the one person who deserved to hear it, the one person with whom he _could_ share it – even kinda wanted to - he'd made a decision to do just that.

He couldn't say all that, but she didn't need him to.

He was out of words for now. She knew that and it was all right.

She didn't ask for any explanation, for any more than he could give. Her whispered, husky _Thank you_ and the soft, tender kiss she pressed to his lips pushed out any lingering question about whether he'd made the right choice.

If asked, he wouldn't say it was easy to bring Ziva inside his memories, but it was better. She met him where he was. Stood beside him there with that quiet strength that, in many ways, defined her. Brought him with her from there into the future – into _their_ future – without asking that he leave any part of himself behind.

Sometimes life doesn't give you choices, but it's important to make the best ones you can when it does. He'd made the right one tonight and that was better than all right. Maybe a picture – or a song – really was worth a thousand words.

The rest of the night passed in comfortable near-silence. Wordlessly, she lifted her arms in invitation for him to carry her upstairs once he'd banked the fire, sensing they both needed it. He gathered her into his arms, so grateful for her on so many levels. She tucked her nose into his throat and breathed him in, bolstering her strength with his.

A brief exchange as he checked her wound … an _I love you_ released on a sleepy sigh … a _Love you back_ rumbled softly in response were the only words to be heard out loud before they drifted off to sleep wrapped around each other.

Their little family was home and together and connected … Past. Present. Future.

And that was better than all right, too.

In fact, it was perfect.


	13. Sanctuary

_A/N: Thanks for coming back to this story. I wish the update had moved along a little more quickly, but the "right" words were resisting me in places. I thought this next part would be one chapter, but when it hit over 7,000 words, I figured it should be two LOL. (Stop snorting you lot out there. *throws you narrow-eyed Ziva stare* You know who you are - and that I love you anyway. :D) The next chapter will hopefully be up in a couple of days, continuing out this evening. Perhaps I should mention that it will take the rating up to M ... =) Enjoy!_

* * *

Gibbs opened the front door to their house after his first day back to work without Ziva sitting at the desk next to him. All he wanted was to wrap his hand around a glass of bourbon and his arms around his wife – and not in that order.

It hadn't been an easy day. They hadn't caught a case, so it had been filled with boring paperwork. No case meant he got to come home on time, but it also meant he'd had very little to take his mind off worrying about Ziva and few distractions from reliving what had happened right there in the bullpen the last time he'd been at work.

Of course, there was also trying to figure out exactly what to say to the well-meaning folks who braved Gibbs' reputation regarding small talk to ask how Ziva was doing. Even he had been a little surprised at the number of people who approached him, the number who offered to help if there was anything they could do.

Ziva had always been one to notice everyone around her – even the people that some others overlooked or simply saw as part of the fabric of everyday life and didn't think more about them. Not Ziva. She knew everyone's name from the director to the administrative assistants to the security guards to the janitorial staff. And, over time, she not only knew their names, she also knew who'd just welcomed a new grandchild, whose back was bothering them again, who was counting down the days to retirement and traveling the country in an RV, whose husband had just lost his job … the list went on.

Gibbs had some idea of her connections that ran under the radar, though it was hard to qualify them … more than casual, yet not on a par with her relationship with him and the others on their team. And, really, he only knew because sometimes she would fill him in on something or he'd notice she was taking a baby gift or a pot of soup to work for someone without any fanfare associated with it.

Sergeant Robinson, the man who'd called Ziva as opposed to anyone else that afternoon twelve days before when his gut was churning about that situation that had indeed gone to hell in a matter of moments, had such a relationship with her - the kind of connection that led him to be the first to ask after her as her husband walked into work that morning.

It never ceased to amaze Gibbs on some level that he continued to learn things about the woman he loved, even after more than three years of being together.

Jethro had stayed home with her until they'd seen the surgeon for the follow-up visit yesterday. Dr. Raynor had been pleased with how the wound was healing and had removed the stitches. She'd released Ziva to drive and had also given her some stretches and exercises to do that were designed to slowly improve her range of motion and strength until she was one hundred percent again. Ziva was scheduled to see Dr. Raynor again in about three weeks to determine if she was fit for duty at that point.

Given that Ziva and the baby had also passed the appointment with the obstetrician a few days before with flying colors, Jethro had somewhat reluctantly gone back to work today at Ziva's insistence. She felt fine, she pointed out, and every indication was that the baby was fine, too. She promised she'd take it easy and reminded him that he would be off for a while when the baby came, so he should save his time for that unless absolutely necessary.

He hadn't used a single sick day since he'd started at NCIS, so he had enough days saved up to be off as long as he wanted, but … she was right. Besides, he knew on some level that they both needed for life to start returning to normal so they could work past the anxiety that still clung to the outskirts of their minds about whether or not she would stay pregnant through all this.

He'd sure missed her today, though.

And NCIS didn't feel normal without her.

He shook his head as he considered all that had changed in his life over the last three years with Ziva, especially over the last one. There were changes that could be seen, such as those in their house and then there were changes in him below the surface that were only visible to those who knew and loved him best.

After their wedding, they had essentially turned the living room into their sitting room since there was no need to hide it from prying eyes any longer. In some ways, that had been bittersweet for Ziva. That room upstairs had been her favorite room in their house, the place that had given them sanctuary to be together. While she loved the idea that they didn't have to hide any longer, it was hard to dismantle that room.

Understanding her as always, Jethro had suggested they move out the old furniture in the living room first and then give it a paint job before moving her furniture down there. Hers was in much newer, better condition so it made sense to use it. He didn't say out loud that he knew she wouldn't want to part with the couch that had held them so often as they'd held each other, and, truth be told, he didn't want to, either. Choosing a color and painting the "new" room had added a layer of excitement and the eventual changeover had felt more seamless than she'd initially expected.

His couch had gone to the basement so she had someplace comfortable to curl up when he was working down there and didn't need some alone time. The couple other pieces of furniture he'd had in the living room went to a local charity resale shop.

They'd painted the walls a soft, warm yellow. The browns and creams they had upstairs went nicely with it, as did the splashes of jewel-tone colors Ziva added with a rug, pillows and pictures. She had a knack for creating a welcoming space that just made him want to sink into it.

They'd moved his bed into the old sitting room to be used as a guest room, though so far Jackson was the only one who ever stayed in it. They'd moved her bed from her apartment into their bedroom and he'd made a beautiful new headboard for it.

Continuing the process of making the whole house truly theirs, they'd painted the kitchen and bought new appliances. Ziva had also wanted an island for additional workspace and the room had plenty of space in the middle for that. They kept the dining table right outside the kitchen on the way to the living room.

Despite the reason behind her being off work, their recent days at home together had been good ones and had given them some cocooned time to reflect on other changes the house would need with the new addition to their family.

The first couple of days had been filled with a lot of resting at Jethro's insistence. Testimony to the toll the healing process for even a small wound can take on a body, Ziva hadn't resisted. Growing a baby often made any woman tired at this stage, let alone one who was recovering from a bullet wound.

And, then, though he insisted she take a nap every day, they spent some time talking about the baby's room. There was no question for either of them that it would be the room right across from theirs, the one that had been their sitting room.

The third bedroom upstairs still held a hodgepodge of things. They decided that would become the guest room, the things currently in there would go elsewhere or be moved on out of the house, and the room that had been their sanctuary would become the same for their child.

Nothing could have felt more right.

Jethro knew that his wife liked to absorb lots of information before making big decisions … she liked to look, touch, smell. So, he suggested they go out and look at some things so she could get an idea of what she wanted the baby's room to look like.

At first, Ziva wasn't too sure about doing concrete planning for the baby's room just yet. She had this almost irrational anxiety about getting through her first trimester before she felt like she could breathe more easily and a vague worry crossed her eyes as she placed her hand protectively over her stomach when he first made his suggestion.

He'd wrapped his arms around her and just held her, understanding where she was coming from but also sensing that this was a step they both needed, a positive step to get back to that place they'd been before she'd been shot – a place where they were almost giddy with anticipation over becoming pregnant. Gently, he talked her into taking an easy pace around a few stores so they could look at themes for baby rooms, paint colors and all the baby paraphernalia that abounded these days. They didn't have to make any decisions; they could just look, dream a little. She'd hesitantly agreed, unable to resist the spark of excitement that trumped her worry.

As they explored the world of baby stuff, she was a little overwhelmed at the sheer amount and wide range of things that were available. Even he was amazed at all that had changed since Kelly had been born and he just had to shake his head at some things.

What the hell was a Diaper Genie? Did it change the baby for you? And a wipes warmer? Seriously?

Just as he'd known she would, Ziva worked her way patiently around the various stores looking at everything, skipping nothing. She touched fabrics, shook toys that made her smile and smelled too many lotions and baby washes to count.

Despite the worry that she really was trying to keep in check, Ziva simply could not resist buying a brightly-colored bib that said _I Love My Daddy_ with a picture of a heart in place of the "love." She laughed delightedly when she discovered he'd snuck one in that said that same about Mommy.

After a few days of looking around, she kept thinking about one Noah's Ark theme in particular and when she wanted to go see it for a third time, Gibbs knew that's what she wanted. He got her talking about it and plans that she'd already built in her head came spilling out: covering the walls in a gentle sky blue … painting fluffy white clouds up near the ceiling all around the room … adding a rainbow on one of the walls.

Ziva got a little embarrassed as she realized she was talking a mile a minute and hadn't even given him a chance to add his opinion, but he was having none of that. He assured her that it sounded perfect and if she changed her mind, that was okay, too.

She'd wrapped herself around him, unable to put into words just how thankful she was for him and for the many ways in which he understood her and gave her a safe place to be herself … more of herself than she'd ever dreamed, really.

By unspoken agreement, they'd passed on looking at baby beds, knowing Jethro would be building that. He did ask if she wanted to get some ideas from a woodworking magazine, but she'd refused. Rubbing her hand over his heart, she'd shared that she wanted that to be whatever he and the wood decided it should be, that it would be exactly right.

It was his turn to wrap her up in gratitude.

And unbeknownst to her, he'd already started creating the plans for a rocker for her in his mind.

The delicious smells permeating the air in the house brought his attention back to the here and now.

"Ziva?"

"In the kitchen," she called out.

Gibbs threw his keys toward the table that was still in the foyer near the door and walked into the living room. He stopped in his tracks for a moment as he took in the transformation of that room.

Except for one lamp glowing with a low light, the room they'd created together was now lit by several candles placed strategically around the room. They added a pleasant smell he couldn't quite place as they mixed in with the mouth-watering aromas drifting in from the kitchen.

Their small dining table had been pulled over in front of the fireplace and covered in a white tablecloth. It was set with china and crystal that had been a wedding gift from her father.

Then his wife walked into the room and he only had eyes for her.

Her dress was a simple A-line with a low scooped neckline and what must be fifty tiny buttons running down the center from top to bottom. He would have called the color purple, but she would have called it lilac. It had short cap sleeves and was fitted from the shoulders through the waist, then flared out gently until it stopped mid-calf.

Her hair was down, loose and wavy and flowing. Her feet were bare, showing off her newly-painted toenails in a plum color that had an attractive shimmer to it. Her jewelry consisted only of her engagement and wedding rings that never left her finger.

There was nothing particularly fancy about the way she was dressed, but she took his breath away. The simplicity was the perfect backdrop to highlight her lovely smile and bright eyes.

"Welcome home," she husked, walking toward him with just enough roll to her hips to make him swallow. Hard.

She placed a short glass with a finger of bourbon in it on the table as she passed by it on her way to him, stopping only when her body rested lightly against his. His hands settled on her hips of their own volition and he happily took the lips she turned up to him in silent invitation.

The kiss was soft and warm and clinging. When he finally lifted his head, she slowly opened eyes that had gone a little hazy with desire.

"Mmmm," she hummed, running her arms around his chest under his sport coat to wrap him in a hug. "Hi."

"Hi yourself," he husked, smoothing his hands up and down her back. The tension that had been building in him over the day began to loosen immediately just from having her in his arms where she belonged. His eyes flicked around the room before coming back to her. "What's all this?"

"Did you not hear?" she asked, tilting her head coquettishly. "It is 'Take Care of Jethro' evening." Her eyes sparkled with good humor even as she delivered her announcement in all seriousness.

His only response was a raised eyebrow.

She smiled and brought one hand around to splay over his chest.

"The last ten days have been all about me and the baby," she explained softly. "Tonight is about taking care of you."

"Don't hafta do that," he protested. He was much more comfortable in the role of caregiver than care-receiver.

"I know," she reassured him. "I want to."

Sliding her hand so that it was near the phone he kept in his inside jacket pocket, she asked wistfully, "I do not suppose we could break Rule Three and turn off your phone for a while - ?"

"Already off," he informed her, rubbing his nose against hers. "Soon as I pulled into the driveway."

A delighted smile curved her lips just before she pulled him to her to kiss him breathless in thanks.

"Now," she began as she released his mouth to turn and hand him his drink. "Go have a quick shower …" Her voice dropped seductively. "… and put on something that I can get you out of easily while I finish up in the kitchen, hmmm?"

She stretched up to nuzzle her face into his throat and thrilled at the low noise he couldn't hold back.

"But, we can't …" His voice dropped off as the tip of her tongue came out to trace along his jaw with maddening slowness.

"Just because _I_ cannot, does not mean that _you _cannot," she practically purred in his ear as she rubbed against him suggestively.

While Dr. Smith had told them at their checkup this week that it should be safe to resume their intimate relationship, she also admitted on questioning from her patient that waiting until she was beyond the first twelve weeks for any sexual activity for Ziva would be the more conservative way to go given the recent shock to her system. Of one accord, Jethro and Ziva agreed that waiting on that might not be easy, but it felt the safest.

She stopped his protest with a soft kiss to his lips and sent him off to the shower.

He returned to find salads on the table and his wife in the kitchen.

"Smells terrific," he observed, walking up behind her where she stood at the stove and wrapping his arms around her waist so he could rub his nose against the side of her neck. "Food smells good, too."

She chuckled at his compliments.

"Thank you." She crossed her arms over his. "We are having steak, but I have used a Jewish recipe that my mother used to make. I hope you like it, even though it is not grilled in the fireplace."

He huffed out a chuckle at her reference to his usual method of cooking steak. "If it tastes half as good as it smells, gonna love it," he assured her, pressing a kiss to her neck.

She smiled with pleasure.

She'd enjoyed the symbolism of fixing some of his favorites in ways that were more in line with her heritage, sort of like the way the two of them combined together. The steak was baked with thin slices of green pepper, parsnips, tomato and celery with just enough broth in the bottom of the pan to make it moist and tender. Her mother had called it Romany Beef Ghivetch and usually served it cubed over rice. In keeping with the theme of Jethro's favorites, however, Ziva had opted to leave the steak in one piece and to pair it with baked potatoes. She'd also made green beans in a Mediterranean style, cooked in tomato sauce with chunks of diced tomato and onion.

She had, however, done nothing unusual when making his favorite dessert: homemade apple pie from his mother's recipe. Jackson had passed along some of Jethro's favorites to her a while back and she enjoyed surprising her husband with one now and then.

"Perhaps you would start a fire?" Ziva suggested, changing the topic. "I know it is not that cold tonight, but I would like one – and I knew you would kill me if I carried the firewood myself."

She tilted her head back and up to throw him a gleaming glance.

"Nah," he denied surprisingly. "Just tied you to the bed for the next six and a half months."

She laughed, though she knew he'd do it, too, in a heartbeat.

After a squeeze of his arms and dropping a kiss to her hair, he set about doing as she asked.

Before long, they were eating their salads and filling each other in on their respective days. They moved on to the main course and he loved the steak. Jethro invited her to make it anytime, but told her she didn't have to cook every day she was home because she was supposed to be resting.

She just smiled and said she liked cooking for him, though these days she needed cooperation from her stomach. Fortunately, today had been a good day in the nausea department once her early morning bout had passed.

And spending the day planning and shopping for this had taken her mind off missing Jethro and being at loose ends without work in her life right now.

They cleared the dishes and agreed on waiting a bit for dessert, though his eyes lit up when she informed him about the apple pie. She asked him to scoot the table out of the way while she carried the last of the dishes to the kitchen.

When she came back, she walked over to where her music player was resting in its dock on one of the bookshelves.

"Now, this next part is really more for me," she admitted, "but perhaps you will not mind."

With the press of a button, the strains of Etta James' _At Last_ flowed softly out into the room. She turned to him with an intimate smile as his eyes darkened with heat and pleasure. They were immediately transported back to the first night they'd danced and to their wedding reception.

"Don't mind at all," he managed in a gravelly voice, holding out his hand to her. She placed her own in his and allowed him to pull her flush against him. Taking the stretching easy on the right, she slid both arms up his chest and wrapped her hands around the back of his neck.

For the next while, they swayed together, murmuring occasionally, exchanging a soft kiss here, a nuzzle there. She'd created a play list that made him smile, including songs from their reception and the song their friends had added to their wedding, as well as some others she just liked.

Everything else faded away, reducing their world to each to other and the home – the haven - they'd created.


	14. Love The Way You Love Me

_For kesterpan, mibel, SexinSatin and Sarah Withers ...just because._

_Please note that this chapter picks up right where the previous chapter left off. Enjoy! =)  
_

* * *

Eventually, they settled on some blankets in front of the fire and shared a large piece of warm apple pie. Jethro nearly moaned in ecstasy with his first bite, then had to fight to swallow when she whispered in his ear that they were just getting started.

When the plate was empty, he put it off to the side as she relaxed into the soft pallet on which they were resting. He stretched out beside her, rising up on one elbow to look down at her. She lay on her back with that intimate smile curving her lips again, the firelight dancing attractively over her dusky skin.

"Thanks for dinner," he husked, running his hand lightly down her side and over her hip. "And everything else."

"You are welcome," she answered, caressing his face with the tips of her fingers. "Oh, and I bought you a frame for your picture today while I was at the store in case you would like one."

She gazed at him with a tender smile as she brought to mind the special ultrasound photo that she'd snuck into his inside jacket pocket before he left this morning. He'd found her surprise the first time he'd pulled out his phone to call and check on her. He'd been so moved as he stared at his baby saying _Hi, Daddy! _that he almost couldn't get any words out. Her heart had echoed the happy curve to her lips as she'd listened on the other end of the line, visualizing the scene. He'd asked how she'd pulled that off and she just answered mysteriously that she had her ways.

While walking through the grocery store today, she'd unexpectedly spotted a small frame in a shiny pewter with the word BABY curved across the top. She thought it suited Jethro perfectly and had impulsively bought it.

He smiled. "Gonna spoil me, ya know." But he was secretly glad to be able to put his picture in a special place – once he could stop carrying it right next to his heart, that is.

"You deserve to be spoiled," she declared in a voice turning husky with emotion. Her eyes gazed deeply into his. "I love you."

_Thank God_ he thought with feeling, pressing his lips to her forehead. Pulling back just far enough to look into her shining brown eyes, he returned, "Love you, too."

"I am so glad," she whispered, pulling his mouth down to hers.

The kiss started out warm and sweet, slow and clinging, heartfelt and full of wonder. As she licked her way into his mouth, it became deep and sensual, connecting and seductive, wrapping them in warm reassurance even as it stoked the fires of their desire.

She pushed gently at his chest until he rolled flat onto his back. She flowed up on her side, draped against him. As she smoothed her hand under the t-shirt he wore, she took his mouth again, robbing him of coherent thought.

His hands wandered over her, absorbing her through his touch. She loved the feel of those big hands on her … smoothing up and down her back, sliding over her hip, gliding up to cup her breast through her clothing. He was gentle there, but she couldn't help the slight noise that escaped her as he rubbed his thumb over her pebbling nipple. It wasn't quite from pain – he'd been too easy and aware with his touch for that. But still, he knew the tips of her breasts were very tender these days.

"Hurt you?" he mumbled against her lips.

She smiled slightly and shook her head. It hadn't hurt. Exactly.

"Tell me if I do," he directed, tilting his head back a little so he could see her beautiful face.

"Stop worrying," she whispered before pressing a string of kisses along his jaw and down his throat, thrilling to the sounds of pleasure that escaped him as she sucked on his neck, then his collarbone as she slowly made her way to his delectable chest.

"Can't," he managed. Barely.

"Then perhaps I can distract you from it for a while."

Ziva released her own hum of bliss as she shoved his shirt up to explore his upper body with her lips, her hands.

"I love your chest," she murmured against his skin before flicking her tongue, scraping her teeth over the hard nub of his nipple.

He squeezed the softness of her breast very gently, reflexively. "Same goes."

Gibbs began unbuttoning that row of a million tiny buttons, going on feel. Even if her dark head had not been blocking his view, he couldn't have seen the damn things clearly without his glasses anyway.

"This is about you," she protested mildly, though she didn't stop him from opening her dress. After all, she hadn't debated her choice of underwear as though the fate of the world rested on her decision just to keep it covered up.

"Trust me," he smirked. "It still is."

Her delighted, sexy laugh went straight to his groin.

He tipped her on her back a bit so he could reach all the way to the bottom of her dress. She raised a bent knee provocatively and felt his shaft harden further against her other thigh. Once he had her dress open completely, he pushed one side down to reveal more of her to his gaze. His breath caught in his chest as his pulse pounded in his ears and his blood rushed south.

_Jesus._

She was so, so beautiful.

No, he needed a stronger word than that, but his head was too fogged with desire to think clearly enough to come up with one.

In a leisurely, worshipful manner, his hand slid from her knee … along her thigh … lingered at her left hip to trace her tattoo of his initials that still made him practically growl _Mine_ in possessive satisfaction every time he saw it … rested meaningfully for a moment over her middle where his child was growing … trailed up to her breasts to rub the backs of his fingers along the swell of her curves.

The bra and panties she'd chosen were an eye-catching, heart-stopping matching set in a royal purple mix of satin and lace that could not have been more stunning on her. With one fingertip, he charted a course along the lace that edged the low demi-style cup, his touch light enough to tease, firm enough to please them both.

"Haven't seen this in a while," he breathed, devouring her with his eyes.

"I remembered your reaction the last time I wore it and liked the color combination with the dress," she explained, nuzzling her face against the side of his. He felt her lips curve into a grin. "Besides, I thought perhaps I should wear it while I still can. I am already about to fall out of it – and who would have ever thought _I _would be able to say _that_?"

He grinned as he bent to kiss the curves under discussion.

"Noticed," he murmured, referring to the fact that her breasts were already larger than before she was pregnant.

"I imagine that you have no complaints about that?" she teased, swirling her tongue along his ear before biting gently on his earlobe.

"Never had any complaints. Love your body," he answered with feeling. "Always have."

She arched into his touch and breathed out, "And I love the way you love it."

Then he raised his gaze to hers while keeping his lips against her skin. "But I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn't gonna enjoy this, too."

His roguish grin had her laughing delightedly and hugging him to her even more closely.

God, she loved him … loved everything about how they were together … perhaps especially when they laughed together. It spoke of so much joy that it couldn't be contained and wasn't that just a wonderful thing in a marriage?

"Well, that is good since I am only going to get bigger." She paused for a moment, then added wryly, "Everywhere."

"Can't wait," he breathed against her skin. He raised blue eyes burning with heated emotion to catch her brown-eyed gaze. "Wanna see you like that."

She melted and had to blink back tears at the rush of sentiment cascading through her.

"Speaking of getting bigger," Ziva husked when she could speak, allowing a fingertip to glide lightly over his handsome face. "I was reading in one of my books about lotions that will hopefully reduce stretch marks." She wrinkled her nose rather adorably at the thought of those pesky lines, but she didn't really mind the idea of them too much considering the reason behind them. "I bought one to try today. Perhaps you would help me put it on every night?"

The look in his eyes was a mix of devotion and desire and possessiveness and gratitude that took her breath away. She smiled at him warmly, moved by his reaction.

He couldn't get any words past the lump in his throat so he nodded and buried his head in that sweet spot where her shoulder met her neck. He was thrilled that she wanted him to be as connected to this pregnancy as he could be, even if he couldn't get the words out to tell her. With a sigh that said all he couldn't, he relaxed into her, just breathing her in.

"Love you," he mumbled into her throat.

"We love you back," she whispered, cradling his head against her with one arm, her hand resting on his head. Her other arm was wrapped around him and she pleased herself by running her hand over his strong, attractive back under his t-shirt.

For a while, they just lay together in front of the fire, soaking each other in, reveling in the closeness that neither had expected to find until they found it in each other.

And getting married … having a baby … well. That just left them feeling nearly full to bursting.

Ziva ran her fingers through his silvering hair watching the firelight catch in the strands, making them shimmer enticingly. She loved his hair … the color … the feel.

She started to move out from under him, intending to get on with the rest of her plans for him. He grunted and squeezed her a little more tightly, his reaction clear. _Where you going?_

She smiled and dropped a kiss to his hair.

"I just want to rub your back," she murmured, trying unsuccessfully to raise them both up.

"Just my back?" he asked, lifting his head to look down at her with a cocked brow. Her earlier hints had suggested she had more than that in store for him.

"Well," she drawled. "I thought I would start with your back."

He tucked her hair behind one ear with a small smile as her lips curved seductively.

"This is good just like this," he told her, meaning every word.

Ziva put both hands on his shoulders and pushed until he was flat on his back again. She rested her crossed arms on his chest and stared down at him.

"Well, this is a sad state of affairs," she pronounced.

His characteristic smile played about his lips. "What is?"

"Here we are, married less than a year," she began, waving her hands as she spoke, "I have not even gotten fat yet, and you already find me easily resistible."

One corner of his mouth tucked further into his cheek. "Not easily." He buried his hand in her glorious hair and pulled her down for a kiss that stole her breath. "Never easily."

"You are doing a good job of faking it, then," she decided. Her eyes took on a sexy, yet impish gleam as she trailed her hand down his center to cup his hardening member through his sweats. Now who couldn't breathe? "Well, a fairly good job."

She grinned against his mouth as he huffed out a chuckle that turned to a moan as she squeezed him gently and dipped her tongue into his mouth.

Her mouth moved to place a trail of wet kisses along his chiseled jaw.

"Just … doesn't seem … fair," he managed, feeling the reins of his self-control slipping through his fingers.

"What?" she murmured into his ear as her mouth and hands continued to work their magic. "That I will not have a turn to come tonight?"

He nodded, robbed of speech as a myriad of images flashed across his mind's eye.

She smiled and kissed her way back to his mouth. After lingering there for countless seconds, she finally raised her head and looked at him warmly.

"First of all," she began, "if we are keeping score, I am _way_ ahead in that department." She bent her head and brushed her smiling lips over his.

He couldn't help the knowing, pleased-with-himself grin that curved his mouth against hers.

"Secondly," she continued, raising her head just enough to gaze into his stunning blue eyes, hers glittering with desire for him. "Giving you pleasure pleases me, too."

She hummed out her delight as she slid her hand under his shirt once more and bent her head to kiss him brainless. When the need for oxygen raised a flag, she moved her lips to his throat.

"Although," she drawled, "I suppose I could agree to allow you to return the favor in a couple of weeks." Her offer was made with cheeky mock reluctance.

He choked out a chuckle as a picture of _that_ crashed into his brain.

Her lips continued to move down toward his chest, her tongue sneaking out to taste him.

"S'posed to be taking it easy moving that arm again," he reminded her feebly. He knew her shoulder blade still pained her some depending on how she moved it. And yet, he sensed that the last of his defenses was about to crash and burn.

"I will go slowly," she promised. She worked her way back up and pressed her lips to his, sending another zing straight to his groin when she nibbled lightly at his lower lip before laving it with her tongue. "In fact, that is rather the point." She smiled against his mouth and pressed her lips to his once more. "If it helps, think of yourself as my physical therapy for tonight."

"Ziver –" he started to protest lightly once more.

"You know, Jethro, I have never had to work this hard to get you to come in my mouth before," she observed breathlessly into his ear.

"I just –" His mind was too far gone with passion to find the words he was trying to say, but she knew he was just trying to resist something that felt like it was all about him. It went against his very nature.

She turned even more fully into him and laid a finger over his lips, rubbing gently back and forth.

"Remember how you needed to take care of us?" she asked softly, referring to her and the baby.

He nodded.

"I need to take care of you, too," she husked, her heart in her eyes. "You are the most important thing in the world to me. I never want you to forget that."

_Same here_ he told her with his eyes, earning him another kiss filled more with adoration and gratitude than heat.

"Let me love you," she whispered in a voice husky with emotion.

At those words, the last of his resistance melted away. Wordlessly, he allowed her to tug off his shirt and then he stretched out completely on his stomach, pillowing his cheek on folded arms, enjoying the feel of her as she straddled him around the waist.

Ziva reached for the massage oil she'd tucked beside the fireplace earlier. Pouring a little into her hands, she smoothed them up his long, sexy back, reveling in the _Mmmm_ of pleasure he couldn't hold in. With great satisfaction, she felt him gradually relax under her ministrations.

For endless moments she lost herself in massaging his skin, delighting in the hard muscle that lay under it. She searched out knots of tension and worked until they released.

"Missed you today," he sighed softly as he lay with his eyes closed, all the better to steep himself in the sensations she created by sitting on top of him, rubbing her hands over him.

"I missed you, too," she admitted quietly, her eyes and touch focused completely on him.

Leaning down, she pressed soft kisses along his shoulders and down his spine, slowly inflaming his senses, especially when her tongue came out to taste him. Mmmm … brown sugar, vanilla and him. A heady combination. His relaxed body began to harden again, making it a little uncomfortable to lay with his front against the floor.

He twisted to look up and back at her and nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight of her astride him, her dress completely open, her sexy underwear visible, her mouth and eyes softening with desire.

Gibbs slowly turned over to his back and she rose up just enough on her knees to allow it. He caught the tell-tale dark spot dampening the center of her panties and it was all he could do not to grind up against her. He couldn't stop himself from lightly running his finger over it, though, his eyes burning into hers knowingly.

"I am trying to keep myself under control," she admitted breathlessly, catching her bottom lip in her teeth as she dropped her head back and slid reflexively back and forth against his finger. "But there are some things I simply cannot help."

"Good," he growled, as thrilled as always at the proof her body couldn't hide that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Ziva somewhat regretfully took his hand in hers and removed it from between her thighs, placing it on her hip with a squeeze. Then, she settled back down against him, gliding her hands luxuriously up his chest to grip his shoulders. Leaning down, she captured his lips in a kiss that went from soft and warm to deep and sensuous in a slow slide of pleasure.

Sitting back up, she allowed her fingertips to roam lightly, further arousing every nerve in his being.

"Take this off - ?" he husked, tugging at the skirt of her dress.

A slow, sultry smile curved her very kissable lips.

"If you like."

He nodded, completely enthralled by the vision in front of him.

Without hurry, she lifted her hands to where her dress still clung to her shoulders and gave it a push that sent it sliding slowly down her arms. With one hand she dropped it to pool on the floor at his side. His breath caught in his chest as his eyes asked for more.

She slid one fingertip over a silky bra strap alluringly, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously in question.

He swallowed hard and nodded.

Moving as though they had all the time in the world, she unclasped her bra in the back and allowed it to follow a similar path as her dress.

His eyes darkened with heat and glittered with desire as his gaze feasted on her nearly naked form.

He urged her a little further up his body so he could slide his hands from her thighs to her hips to her breasts, pausing there to carefully cup her swelling curves tipped with sensitive, peaked nipples that had grown darker with her pregnancy.

Rising up at the waist, he teased her neck with his tongue … paused to suck lightly at _that spot_ that never failed to send goose-bumps zinging down her arms and a flash of heat straight to her core … pressed feather-soft kisses over her chest. Her lips parted in a silent gasp of pleasure as she instinctively arched against him.

"Need another word besides beautiful for you," he husked without removing his mouth from her skin. "Doesn't do you justice."

A pleased smile tugged at her lips as she smoothed her fingers lovingly along his shoulders before wrapping her arms around them and bending her head to nuzzle against his.

"Beautiful works just fine," she told him warmly. "It makes me happy that you think that about me."

"You take my breath away," he admitted, raising his head to look into her face. "Still can't always believe you're mine."

"Believe it," she husked, emotion lighting her eyes. "I will always be yours."

She took his mouth again in a deep, sensuous kiss that drove a groan from his chest as her tongue danced and tangled with his. Then, with a maddening lack of speed that drove him crazy even as he loved it, she gently pushed him back and thoroughly explored his body on the way to her ultimate goal.

Reaching the edge of his sweats, she ran her tongue along his skin at the waistband, a sense of satisfaction rolling her through her as he moaned her name and tunneled his fingers into her hair. Tugging his clothing down, she released him from his pants, nearly purring as his long, thick erection sprang free. Nuzzling against him, she rubbed her cheek sensuously along his hard length, luxuriating in the undeniable proof of how much he wanted her.

Turning her head, she pressed a row of kisses down one side of his straining cock before tracing a moist line back up along the underside with just the very tip of her tongue. To her extreme gratification, he gasped out her name and thrust his hips at her, the head of his shaft bumping against her lips.

She swirled her tongue around the tip, catching the salty bead of cum that had already formed there. A moan of pleasure left her own throat as she tasted him.

Wrapping one hand around the base of his shaft as best she could, Ziva parted her lips and took him inside her mouth at long last. He nearly passed out from the ecstasy. His lips formed her name, but he could barely force out any actual sound.

Slowly, she worked him with her mouth, her tongue … licking, sucking, pulling … sliding up only to take more of him in as she slid back down until she eventually engulfed him completely ... gradually picking up the pace of her movements until he was mindless with desire.

He couldn't help but thrust himself in and out of her sweet, warm, moist mouth, passion forming a red haze over his mind. He prolonged the delightful torture as long as he could, but reached a point where his control shattered.

"Ziva!"

White-hot pleasure ripped through his body. Fisting both his hands tightly in her hair and thrusting into her mouth one last time, Gibbs shuddered as he emptied himself inside her. She swallowed all he gave her, relishing the taste of him and the fact that she had brought him the mind-blowing satisfaction that now left him completely boneless beneath her.

Oh-so-slowly, she released him from her mouth and kissed her way unhurriedly back up his chest.

With a contented curve to her lips, she tucked her nose in where his neck met his shoulder and pressed herself so tightly against him that not even a whisper of air could have passed between them. He managed to raise one arm to bury a hand in her hair, cradling her scalp in those long fingers.

They lay together quietly for the longest time as the fire burned low and strength slowly returned to Jethro's limbs.

Rolling them onto their sides, he leaned down to take her mouth in a deep, sensual kiss, something primal and possessive moving through him as he tasted himself on her tongue.

Resting his forehead against hers, he released a sigh of deep satisfaction.

"That was incredible," he husked, running a hand up and down her back. "You're incredible."

Her smile was nothing but fulfilled herself. "It was my pleasure," she told him in all truthfulness.

He huffed out a chuckle and shook his head slightly. "That's gotta be my line, babe."

She laughed lightly. "I think we will have to share it."

He nuzzled his nose into her cheek and she turned her head to capture his lips once more in a gentle, affectionate kiss.

When he thought his legs would hold him at last, Gibbs tugged up his sweats and rolled to his knees to make sure the fire was safely out. Ziva slipped her arms into the short sleeves of her dress and wrapped it around herself like a robe. Standing, Jethro assisted his wife to her feet with a gentle pull on her left hand and then boosted her up so her legs wrapped around his hips and her cheek rested on his shoulder as he carried her to their bed.

Loving Ziva was one of the best things that had ever happened to him. And the way she loved him back …

She embraced his heart, his soul, his mind, his scars.

She helped him heal without even trying, took care of him just because she wanted to. Needed to.

She never minded when words failed him, never demanded that he be someone he wasn't.

She breathed life into his future even as she unassumingly nurtured his capacity to remember his past with more than simply gut-wrenching anguish.

She was the brightest star in his sky and never ceased to make him feel like he was hers, too.

While he couldn't have chosen every turn that had led him to this place in his life, he was here – and he was beyond grateful that she was here with him.

He could only hope – and even pray – that, this time, forever really meant forever.


	15. Climb Inside My Heart

_A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my dear friend mibel for many reasons, not the least of which is the Zibbs video she made for me three weeks ago. Not only is it a terrific video (go check it out - search for Zivacentric in You Tube and it should be the first thing that comes up), the song is perfect for this couple and inspired the title of this chapter - a chapter that had been written, but the title was eluding me. Who knows - if she hadn't pointed me in the direction of that song, you might still be waiting on this chapter, because I have a thing about "perfect" titles. =) THANKS for everything, M!  
_

_Be prepared for a bit of an emotional rollercoaster here and the rating is definitely M. ;) Please consider leaving a review; they really do mean a lot. Enjoy and thanks for reading!  
_

* * *

_Suddenly, the prisoner pulled a gun and pointed it right at him in the bullpen. Gibbs held his hands up in the air to show he wasn't armed. He saw Ziva rise from her chair out of the corner of his eye and his heart beat faster as she silently pulled her own weapon from her drawer and aimed it at the agitated man currently threatening him._

"_You don't wanna do this," Gibbs said to the suspect in a quiet voice that was meant to be calming even as it served the purpose of keeping the guy's attention focused on him._

"_What I don't want is to go back to prison," the guy said shakily, desperately._

_Gibbs took a couple of steps toward him, feeling his wife ready herself to do whatever was necessary._

"_Ziva …" he muttered, wanting her out of this._

_The guy glanced around wildly, his gaze freezing as it landed on Ziva._

"_Put that gun down," the stranger ordered her._

"_Certainly," she agreed, her focus never wavering from him. Her resolve firmed in her eyes. "You first."_

_The prisoner wasn't completely over the edge yet, as he could clearly see that Ziva was his biggest threat at the moment. He suddenly swung his gun toward her and pulled the trigger as she pulled hers. _

_The blood … God, there was so much blood …_

_And for the second time in Gibbs' life, a bullet resulted in the death of his wife and his child. _

"No! Ziva!" Gibbs yelled, sitting straight up in bed, his heart pounding, his pulse racing too quickly for the beats to be counted.

"Jethro?" came the sleepy response from the warm body lying beside him.

Ziva pushed herself up and looked at him in concern, reaching a hand toward him.

Gibbs grabbed her and hugged her to his chest with both arms wrapped tightly around her.

"Ziva …" he sighed in relief, trying to draw a steadying breath into lungs that were screaming for air.

"What is it?" she asked quietly, concerned.

He couldn't speak yet, still half-caught in that hazy world between his dream and reality. All he could do for a moment was hold onto her with his face buried in her hair.

Ziva had instinctively wrapped her arms around his chest as he'd pulled her to him. Squeezing him a little tighter, she rested her cheek against his shoulder.

"You had a dream?"

_Nightmare_ he thought to himself before giving a single nod.

"… you … shot …" he managed at last.

Her heart ached for him at those two words. Realizing he was still trying to find his way out of the visions in his head, she tried to help.

"Yes, in the back, behind my shoulder," she responded, using a tone that was as soothing as she could make it. "And I am fine."

"Not shoulder …" he bit out. "Not fine …"

He shook his head as though trying to clear the mental images still haunting him. He didn't even realize he then gave voice to the plea running through his mind and his heart.

"Not again … not again … not again …"

The picture was becoming clearer to Ziva. She had the feeling that, in his nightmare, parts of two very different shootings had merged into one.

"Shhh …" she whispered. "I am right here, _ahouvi_. Right here."

"So real," he gasped, still working to wipe the last of the cobwebs from his mind.

"The dream was not real," Ziva told him, anchoring him with her voice, "but I am."

Tilting her head back just far enough to see his face, she directed, "Look at me, Jethro."

Slowly, he blinked a few times and his vision finally cleared. With the aid of the moonlight coming in through the curtains, Ziva was able to watch the last vestiges of terror in his eyes give way to a sheen of moisture as he finally focused on her in the here and now.

"There you are," she noted in relief. With a gentle smile, one of her hands lifted to cup his jaw, her thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. "And see? I am just fine."

With shaking fingers, he traced over her face as though relearning those features that had become so necessary to him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. Saying it out loud might make it feel more real again.

She'd expected that answer and it was all right. Besides, she already had a sense of what had transpired in his head as he lay vulnerable in sleep. She just held him closer.

Bending his head, he laid his mouth to hers … and the floodgates of his need crashed open.

Laying her back, he swamped her senses with that need. All she could do – all she _wanted_ to do - was respond, reassure him, hold on.

His hands tugged her soft pajama top over her head, desperate to feel more of her comforting warmth. His mouth pressed a deliciously burning path from her lips … down her neck … to her breasts.

She couldn't help the quick sharp breath she took as his teeth scraped over one of her nipples.

He froze.

When he started to pull back, angry at himself for being careless with her even for a moment, she held him to her, refusing to let him move.

"Ziva –"

"I am just still a little tender there, that is all." Her smile was still nothing but warm and welcoming. "It is all right. And that is getting a little better every day."

From what she'd read so far, the almost-painful sensitivity of her breasts and the "morning" sickness should ease as she moved into her second trimester and she was happy to say both of those were indeed improving.

That wasn't the only way in which her almost-inaudible gasp of pain had brought him crashing back to reality, however.

"But we decided to wait …" he pointed out somewhat haltingly, holding himself up on stiff arms so that he wasn't resting completely against her. She wasn't letting him get too far away from her, though.

"Yes, and tomorrow is officially the first day of our second trimester," she reminded him. She glanced over at the clock. "And look – in five more minutes it will be tomorrow."

Ziva stretched up to nuzzle her face against his throat and then skimmed her way to his ear.

"I think we can manage five minutes of foreplay, yes?" she murmured teasingly.

He huffed out a strangled chuckle.

"But we don't see Dr. Smith again for another couple of days," he responded, trying desperately to hang onto his resolve.

"True, but she has already told us we could make love again at both of our appointments over the last two weeks," she pointed out lovingly. "We just decided it felt safer to wait a little longer – but even that time is up now. And a couple of days from now will be perfect timing for her to reassure us that everything is still all right."

"Ziva –"

She smoothed the concern furrowing his brow with gentle fingers.

"Jethro, we trust Dr. Smith. She would not have told us we could be together like this again if she felt it was risky."

He exhaled audibly and laid his head on her shoulder, his nose pressed close to her throat. He breathed her in deeply, seeking that calm in the midst of a storm that he found only in her.

"Don't want you to be scared," he mumbled against her skin.

Ah.

"And how are you feeling?" she asked gently, perceptively, allowing her hands to roam over his shoulders, his long, strong back. She knew the answer, but wasn't completely certain he'd say it out loud.

He didn't respond at first. Then, with another sigh that heralded the fall of the last of his defenses, he relaxed completely into her.

"Scared."

Ziva wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, one hand coming up to cradle his head even more closely to her. Her heart ached for this man who'd lost so much, this man she loved more than mere words could ever truly capture. Blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from her own eyes, she turned her head to press her lips to his forehead.

"Do you know what I think?" she asked softly after a moment, her voice a little husky.

He shook his head without lifting it from her.

"I think," she began slowly, "that we will both be a little scared until we do this and everything remains fine."

His arms squeezed her gently in silent response.

"There is nothing to suggest the baby is anything other than fine." She tilted his head until she could see his eyes. "But, Jethro, if something does happen at this point, it will not be because we loved each other. It will only mean that it was not meant to be just now." She paused to swallow the lump of emotion that had risen in her throat as her voice cracked. "And that would be more painful than either one of us could bear alone - and we would still somehow get through it. Together."

No one who wanted a baby as much as this couple wanted this child ever wished to talk about this particular subject. But, with everything that had happened – recently and in the distant past – they'd become fearful, anxious. She was still a little nervous, too, but she wanted their life back, their joy back. Other aspects of their lives were slowly getting back to normal. Everything seemed to be exactly as it should with the pregnancy and she did not want worry stealing any of their happiness any longer.

He shored up her strength so often. Tonight, perhaps it was her turn to bolster his. This was one of the things she loved most about their relationship – that they each leaned on the other, that they sometimes took turns being the stronger one, even though that was not second nature to either of them.

With all that in mind, she blinked the moisture from her eyes and turned the conversation.

"We were understandably scared when I got shot. But now that everything has stayed all right, I want to focus on how _ecstatic_ I am that we have created a child together, on how happy that makes me ... makes _us_." Taking him by surprise, Ziva managed to roll him over so she was braced over him. Her wound was healing so well that she barely felt a twinge as she did. Her eyes shone brightly in the moonlight as she looked down at him with something akin to wonder in her gaze. "_I_ am having _your_ baby."

A delighted bubble of laughter escaped her throat, tugging a smile from him.

Ziva bent her head and rubbed the tip of her nose back and forth over his.

"Now you say it."

She felt rather than heard the chuckle in his chest.

"We're having a baby," he said slowly, softly, his hands squeezing her hips while his thumbs brushed over her middle.

"Is that not amazingly wonderful?" she breathed, leaning down to capture his lips with hers, tugging his lower lip into her mouth.

"Mmmm …" he agreed without pulling away from her.

After a thorough, clinging kiss, she released his mouth and raised her head a little. Jethro's gaze moved down to where their bodies rested against each other, watching his thumbs smooth back and forth.

"Wasn't this scared before, with Kelly," he admitted quietly, almost too softly to be heard.

He looked up at her with a self-deprecating ghost of his half-smile. He hadn't known enough to be this worried back then.

Ziva's heart melted even further. Resting an elbow on his chest, she propped her head up on her hand, her curtain of dark hair falling attractively through her fingers.

"No?" she inquired softly with a warm smile. "What were you?"

His smile deepened a little, became more natural.

"Happy. Excited." He shrugged, struggling to find the words.

She brushed the backs of her fingers over his cheek.

"And quite proud of yourself, I imagine," she teased him knowingly, the twinkle in her eyes taking any possible sting out of the words.

He couldn't help it – he grinned.

"Oh, yeah."

She laughed good-naturedly, tickled by the picture of the young Marine that his admission painted in her mind. She smiled down at him, somehow loving him even more.

"I am glad you felt that way," she husked, wishing on some level she could have spared him the devastating loss that came years after.

He looked into her eyes and found nothing but truth behind her words.

"You don't feel …" He rolled the word around on his tongue before forcing it out as his eyes flicked away from hers. "… cheated?"

Ziva shook her head with a tender curve to her lips.

"No, I do not_."_

Wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, she brought his gaze back to hers.

"We are happy and excited, too – and proud." She rubbed her nose against his again affectionately, gratified to hear the low chuckle that telegraphed the shift in his thoughts. "We just also got worried. But now we are going to think more about the excited part, yes?"

For a long moment, Gibbs just stared into her warm brown eyes, wondering what the hell he'd ever done to deserve this woman and the way she loved him.

"Yeah."

He suddenly rolled them back over so he was half-rising above her as she lay on her back. He smoothed a hand slowly down her naked torso, letting it come to rest on her abdomen. Staring down at the contrast of her slightly darker skin against his, he rubbed his hand gently back and forth.

"You're carrying our baby," he marveled in a low voice.

"I am," she smiled, caressing him lovingly with her hands, her voice.

"Feels incredible," he breathed, raising his eyes to capture hers.

"It does," she agreed emotionally.

With one hand on the back of his neck, she brought his mouth to hers once more and kissed him thoroughly, slowly, deeply. When her tongue touched his with a velvet stroke, he moaned and her stomach clenched in satisfaction. She loved it when he couldn't hold those sounds inside.

Needing a breath, Ziva slid her mouth to the side of his, pressing a series of tiny kisses over his cheek, along his jaw.

"Do you know what else feels incredible?" she murmured against his skin.

"What?" he asked indulgently, kissing her neck.

"You."

He huffed out a chuckle and shook his head at her with a roll of his eyes as though brushing that off. That earned him a tiny bite on his earlobe from her sharp teeth.

"I saw that," she reported in a mock growl.

He grinned and kissed her again, his tongue coming out to lick her lower lip before slipping inside her mouth, relishing the sounds of pleasure she made as he did. Finally, the need for oxygen forced them just far enough apart to breathe.

"Do you really want to wait to make love again if we do not have to?" Ziva inquired breathlessly, nuzzling her face against his and shifting her hips against him.

He didn't even need to think about that and immediately shook his head.

"I do not either," she whispered, pulling his mouth back to hers. Within a heartbeat, she was pulling him back under the tide of their mutual desire once again.

Slowly, his mouth moved from her lips, down her throat, to her breasts – gently this time. Too gently. Ziva could feel him holding back and she didn't want him to. She sensed they both needed to completely lose themselves in each other.

"I will not break," she murmured into his ear, her voice a little teasing.

He rested the side of his face against her chest, his fingers caressing her curves with a touch as light as the brush of a butterfly's wing.

"Don't wanna hurt you," he mumbled without lifting his head.

"You will not," she reassured him.

"Already did," he pointed out, a twinge of regret coloring his voice. One fingertip slid over to trace the outer circle of her nipple with feather-light pressure.

"Not really – not the kind of hurt that means you should stop," she said with an understanding smile in her voice, "simply the kind that suggests your tongue might feel a little better than your teeth on my breasts tonight."

Cupping his jaw in her hand, she raised his face to hers. Dropping her chin, she pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, then stayed close to nuzzle against him once more.

"I want your tongue on my breasts, Jethro," she breathed. "In fact, I want your tongue on me everywhere … and I think you should give me what I want."

He huffed out a chuckle despite the worry battling with his desire for his wife. God, he loved her, wanted her more than he could say even on his best "words" day. His lips rubbed against the swelling globe of one very soft breast almost of their own volition.

"Ya do, huh?" he wondered teasingly as he pressed a kiss to the valley between her breasts. "Why's that?"

"Because you love me," she answered confidently, her own love sparkling in her eyes. "And because I am pregnant."

He grinned and then cocked a brow as he glanced up at her.

"You gonna use that for the next six months?" he asked.

"I would be stupid not to, and I am far from stupid," she grinned. "And it is closer to six and a half."

After reading her books about being pregnant, Ziva could not figure out why common thought held that a woman is pregnant for nine months. There is no way to do the math and divide forty weeks into nine months evenly, even if all the months have thirty-one days in them - which they don't.

His face softened as a wave of all he felt for her washed over him.

"Not stupid at all," he agreed with her assessment of her own intelligence, dropping a kiss to her lips. "'cept maybe for marrying me."

"_That_ is the smartest thing I have ever done," Ziva countered firmly, placing a brief hard kiss on his mouth. "And no one talks about my husband like that and lives to tell about it, so you had better take it back."

His characteristic smile made her heart melt. His hands slid up under her shoulders to cradle the back of her head as he gazed down at her in comfortable silence with equal parts warmth and wonder.

"Do you know that every time I call you my husband, my stomach still gets all … fluttery?" she asked tenderly, searching for the best word to describe that thrilled, _elated_ feeling in her tummy as she caressed his face with her fingertips.

"Same thing happens to me when I even think about you being my wife," he admitted quietly, his eyes tracing her features in the moonlight.

Her smile made his heart turn over in his chest.

"I love you," he husked, his thumbs caressing her cheeks.

"I love you, too," she returned, equally in awe of all they'd found between them. "So very much."

She brought his lips back to hers and their kiss started out slow and soft, warm and sweet. Then, she deliberately deepened the kiss.

Gibbs gave as good as he got and then some, feeling the reins of his control begin to slip.

When the need for oxygen raised a flag, he slid his lips to her throat, sucking lightly at her skin.

"Jethro?" she breathed, moving restlessly against him and tugging his t-shirt over his head to be dropped carelessly to the floor so she had easier access to his magnificent chest and back. He lifted his head from her neck just long enough for her to accomplish that goal, then immediately returned to the delicious task at hand. "Do you remember what I want?"

"I remember." His voice rumbled from deep inside his chest.

Leading with his tongue, Gibbs slowly made his way back down to her breasts.

"You want this," he murmured against her skin, licking his way over the curve of her breast to her puckering nipple with just the very tip of his tongue.

Ziva arched her back uncontrollably, her body unconsciously attempting to get closer to him.

"Mmmm …" she moaned. "More …"

He happily complied. He swirled his tongue around her dark areola and pebbling center, then flattened it out for a long, strong lick before pulling her nipple into his mouth to suckle her gently. She was making those noises to which he'd become addicted long ago … those sounds that fell somewhere between a gasp, a moan, a whimper, a mew. Her hips began to move purposefully, seeking to cradle his silken shaft that was hardening against her thigh.

With her hands and feet, Ziva pushed at the thin pajama bottoms he generally wore these days, impatient to get them off. He gave her an assist and she sighed in pleasure as she held his completely naked form against her body, her hands exploring the newly revealed parts of him, thrilled with the moan of pleasure he couldn't hold back.

He reached down between them. After squeezing her hand with his, he removed hers from his engorged member and placed it on his shoulder.

If she kept that up, he wasn't going to last for even that five minutes of foreplay she'd suggested.

She made a slight noise of frustration, but wrapped her arms around his neck and slid her fingers into his gloriously silver hair. She pressed him even closer as though afraid he might suddenly disappear.

Gibbs continued to carry out her earlier provocative command.

"And you want this."

With a maddening lack of speed that thrilled her even as it took her beyond coherent thought, he worked his way to her other breast … across her ribs … down to her still-mostly-flat belly. He paused to gently kiss the slight bulge that her uterus was now making just above her pubic bone. It was not so much that it could be seen by most people, but he wasn't most people. He knew her body better than his own and they'd discovered this new roundness to her slim lower abdomen this past week when he'd been rubbing her cocoa butter lotion over her middle, her thighs, her breasts ... all those places that would be particularly stretched as she grew bigger with their child. Ziva smiled and ran her fingers through his hair as he rubbed his cheek against her where his baby was growing.

Still moving without hurry, Jethro removed the soft pants that matched her pajama top and she released a blissful noise as their bodies were touching at last with nothing between them.

After getting the last barrier out of his way, Gibbs continued his slow descent, inch by fabulous inch, moving toward his ultimate goal, where they both wanted him to be. As he reached her thatch of dark, tight curls, her legs parted trustingly. That never ceased to amaze him, the way she opened herself to him to the point of leaving herself vulnerable … welcomed him - physically, emotionally - without hesitation.

Then his tongue tasted her and every other thought left his head except for pleasuring her, pleasuring himself, relishing the sensations rushing through him.

Her hips moved more and more insistently against him, lifting up to meet his mouth. She threw one arm above her head seeking purchase against the edge of the mattress, while the other pressed his head against her, into her.

His tongue alternately teased … tasted … swirled … licked … snaked inside her. She held off as long as she could, reveling in his touch, then came with a powerful release that rolled through her from her head to her toes and everywhere in between, crying out his name.

Gibbs nuzzled her through the first aftershocks, drawing out her pleasure, then moved back up her body and plunged into her core, triggering another climax within her. He stroked her through it, intent on leading her to a third … lost in sensation, all rational thought washed out on the tide of his passion.

Suddenly, he stopped and held his chest a rigid arm's length away from hers, still buried inside her, worried that he was being too rough, was too far gone. Closing his eyes tightly, he dropped his chin and tried to breathe, searching in vain for some of his famous control.

When he paused, Ziva opened her eyes and tried to capture his gaze.

"Jethro?" she gasped, her hands gliding over his back, his shoulders, his head.

"I'm …" _Not in control_.

In that way of hers, she understood.

"Take me," she whispered as she raised her upper body up until she could kiss his mouth and string a row of kisses to his ear. "However you need it."

Her hands searched out his lower back and pressed their centers even more closely together as she tipped her pelvis into him. His eyes slowly opened and he fixed his burning blue gaze on her brown one that had melted into dark chocolate from the passion between them. A mix of emotions careened through his mesmerizing eyes – feverish desire … love that would last a lifetime … anguish that he wasn't being gentle enough. She was aware of exactly what was going through his mind, despite the fact that he couldn't give voice to the words.

"The only way you could hurt me is by holding yourself back from me," she told him, fighting for enough air to get the words out, smoothing her hands up and down his long, sexy back. "Please do not do that."

She pressed her lips to his ear. He not only heard her breathless command, but also felt it.

"Take me."

His tenuous hold on some semblance of control snapped.

And he took.

The ride was wild and sexy and more than a little desperate. And gloriously affirming.

She cradled his head into that spot where her neck met her shoulder as she cradled his hips between her thighs. His pace gradually increased as he pushed into, pulled out of her in a deliciously wicked rhythm that drove her past the point of knowing her own name. Her whole world narrowed to this man on top of her and the sensations, the emotions he created within her.

Knowing he was getting close, Gibbs bent his head and captured Ziva's lips in a series of ever-deepening kisses.

"Come with me," he ordered her breathlessly without lifting his mouth from hers.

She tossed her head back and forth.

"Cannot …" she panted. "… already … twice …"

"You can," he asserted, his eyes glittering with need and desire. "You will."

He moved inside her and kissed her senseless and placed his thumb over her swollen, sensitive clit – and she came.

With a near roar, he followed her over, spilling himself into her welcoming body.

Spent, he collapsed bonelessly, yet still carefully, on top of her, his pulse pounding in his ears.

They lay tangled together, allowing their hearts and breathing to gradually slow, still joined … completely connected on every level.

"If you need me to move, you will have to move me," Ziva eventually mumbled without even opening her eyes. "I believe my bones have melted."

She felt him grin against her skin where his face was tucked into her throat and her own lips twitched.

"Guess we're stuck like this then," he managed to respond, "'cause mine did, too."

Her satisfied smile was evident in her voice.

"Like this is perfect," she sighed happily. "Just … perfect."

He couldn't have agreed more.

* * *

_Ahouvi_ = Hebrew term of endearment meaning "my love"


	16. Decisions, Decisions

_About one week later …_

"Exactly what part of 'medical leave' is confusing to you, Tobias?" Gibbs asked into his phone, clearly a little cranky.

He hadn't been irritable at the beginning of the conversation, but his disposition had rapidly taken a turn in that direction.

Ziva looked up from where she was chopping the last of the ingredients for the beef vegetable soup she was making. It was mid-afternoon on a Saturday that had just enough of a fall snap to the air to put her in the mood to make soup.

"_I wouldn't ask if I had another option available, Jethro. Besides, you really expect me to believe Ziva isn't going stir crazy after being off work for nearly four weeks? Wouldn't you be?"_

Her husband heaved a sigh at his friend's response and held the phone down against his chest.

"Tobias has something in Arabic he needs translated. Feel like taking a look at it?"

"Certainly," Ziva smiled.

He put the phone back up to his ear and grudgingly told his friend, "C'mon over."

Ziva knew his protective instincts were rising to the fore causing him to be touchy about anyone bringing work into the safe cocoon they'd tacitly created in their home during her recovery time. Other than filling her in enough on his days to keep her in the loop, Gibbs had been unconsciously – but notably - careful to avoid bringing the work home with him lately. She still had regular contact with Abby, Tony, Tim, Ducky and Palmer; however, she hadn't done anything remotely close to her job in nearly a month and she missed it. Besides, she was more than happy to help Tobias.

Rather than press Jethro to talk about what was going through his mind, she just kept going about her business, wordlessly giving him space to settle.

As for him, he hadn't really meant to be short with Tobias over his request, he just …

Sigh.

Before long, Agent Fornell arrived.

Gibbs opened the door and Ziva met their guest at the doorway into the living room.

"Tobias," she greeted him warmly. After she and Jethro had gotten married, he'd informed her that, while Agent David could call him Agent Fornell, Jethro's wife should call him Tobias. "It is good to see you."

"Hello, Ziva," he responded, leaning close to press a brief kiss to her cheek. "You're looking well. This guy must be taking good care of you." He tilted his head toward Gibbs, but looked at Ziva with a banked twinkle in his eye.

She grinned. "He is taking very good care of me." She looked at her husband with a loving look that made his characteristic smile tug at one side of his mouth.

"I would apologize for intruding, but –" Fornell paused mid-sentence and sniffed the air. "Something smells terrific. Guess I interrupted your cooking."

"You did not interrupt," she reassured him. "I am making soup, but all that is left is for it to simmer for a long while. Jethro said you have something in Arabic you need translated?"

"Yeah," he pulled a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his trench coat. "Tried to get somebody at the Bureau to take a look at it, but it's just based on a hunch … and I guess I pissed somebody off enough that they bumped filling my request to somewhere between next month and when hell freezes over."

"You pissed somebody off?" Gibbs questioned in mock surprise. "There's a news flash."

Tobias tried leveling him a look, then his lips twitched.

"Yeah, I really gotta stop taking pages out of your play book," he observed, tongue in cheek.

Ziva laughed and even Gibbs smirked as she led them all to the dining room table. She stood again almost immediately, offering to get everyone something to drink, but Gibbs waved her down, saying he'd take care of it. Tobias just managed to hide his surprise at the considerate behavior, though he wryly acknowledged to himself that he should have expected it by now. Truth was, this side of Jethro was one of those things that those who knew him well were still getting used to after his relationship with Ziva had come out of the closet.

Ziva took a look at the paper Tobias handed her and quickly translated it. There were three sentences that must be cloaked in some kind of code as they didn't really make sense otherwise. However, there was also an address. Fornell did not look surprised. That fit with his hunch that something was going on in an old warehouse that had supposedly been abandoned long ago.

He glanced over at Gibbs. "Feel like keeping me company on a stake-out for a while? I'd like to get a look at this place."

Gibbs didn't even have to think about it.

No.

Fornell wasn't surprised by that, either.

"You should go," Ziva encouraged Gibbs, knowing if this had been even five weeks ago, he most likely would have.

Jethro shook his head. Ziva reached for his hand that was resting on the table. He turned his over to clasp hers. She gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"All I will be doing is stirring the soup occasionally, folding laundry and possibly taking a nap," she shared. "I will even promise to leave the laundry basket for you to carry later, if you go." She turned her face toward Fornell. "Perhaps you would join us for dinner if you two are back in time - ? Though it is nothing fancy."

"Sounds great," Tobias accepted with a friendly smile. "Thanks." He looked at his friend. "Well, Jethro?"

He still appeared torn between helping out Fornell – knowing Tobias would do the same for him – and staying home with his wife.

Of his own initiative, Fornell gave them a minute of privacy under the guise of clearing their mugs from the table and taking them to the kitchen.

Ziva looked at Jethro warmly, affectionately. She could see the indecision in his eyes. He tugged at her hand until she moved to stand beside him. Looping his arms around her waist, he laid his head against her chest. Her arms came up to wrap around his shoulders.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Mmhmm," she answered with an understanding curve to her lips.

He looked up at her searchingly. "Somethin's been on your mind the last few days. Thought maybe you'd talk about it while we had some time together at home today."

He'd actually gotten home from work at a decent hour most of the past week, but there still hadn't been a lot of time or energy for an extended conversation, especially one that he sensed could get … deep.

Her smile settled on her heart, which showed on her face. Not much got by him.

"Yes, there is something," she admitted. "And I will tell you as soon as it makes a little more sense in my head. In the meantime, the world will not stop spinning while I am thinking."

It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to him about it; quite the contrary. She was just trying to sort all the aspects of something out in her mind and find the words for sharing it.

She leaned down and rubbed her nose against his affectionately.

"Go," she urged in a stage whisper, tightening her arms in a hug.

Eventually he caved in and called Fornell back from where he was hiding out in the kitchen. Ziva walked with them to the door after Gibbs grabbed a jacket.

Tobias draped an arm over her shoulders in a friendly hug as they moved. "Thanks for the help, Ziva. I'll have this guy back as soon as I can."

"Anytime," she assured him. "And I am serious about staying for dinner." She flicked a meaningful glance at the door. "Jethro will be right out."

Tobias didn't need her to hit him over the head with it to know she wanted a moment with her husband and he went on out to the car.

Ziva closed the front door behind him and turned around to lean her back against it, facing Gibbs. She reached for his hand and tugged him against her with a provocative gleam in her eye. He willingly followed her lead.

When his body was resting lightly against hers, she wrapped her left hand around the back of his neck and pulled his lips to hers. The kiss started out soft and warm, then went deep and heady. By the time she allowed him to lift his head, he was doing well to remember his own name.

After a brief shake to clear his head, he looked at her. "What'd I do to deserve that?"

"You told Tobias he could come over even though your first instinct was to say no," she answered affectionately.

"Actually, it was closer to 'hell, no,'" he admitted wryly.

She chuckled and wrapped her arms around his chest for a tight hug.

"Be back soon," he told her, smoothing a hand down her long brown ponytail.

"Do not make promises you cannot keep, Special Agent Gibbs," she admonished knowingly, but without censure. He pressed his lips to her forehead. She was right.

"Take care of my wife," he ordered her gently, his arms looped loosely around her, his eyes tracing her lovely features.

"Your wife can take care of herself," she returned with spirit. Then her tone went from good-natured to tender. "But I will take care of your baby."

He smiled into her shining eyes and smoothed a hand around to rest over her middle.

"That'll work," he husked.

After dropping a brief kiss to her upturned lips, he jogged out the door, already eager to get back.

* * *

After folding the laundry she'd mentioned – and leaving the basket for Jethro to carry, as promised – Ziva was feeling a little restless and not as tired as she had been of late. Her energy was coming back, which was a welcome relief from the extreme exhaustion that had hit her frequently during her first trimester.

Despite the slight chill in the air, the sun was shining brightly and she had the sudden urge to go for a walk. The nausea, lack of energy and recovery from getting shot had seriously meddled with her morning runs, but Dr. Smith had assured her last week that walking was perfectly fine and even encouraged her to do it as often as she felt like it.

After buttoning herself into a lightweight cloth jacket, Ziva sent a text to Jethro as she went out the door. She knew he would worry if he came back sooner than expected and didn't find her there, and she figured a text was safer than a call, not knowing how much need for quiet there was on his end.

_Taking a walk. Yes, I will be careful and no, I will not go far. ;)_

She grinned as she pictured his snort as he held the phone out far enough to read what she'd written. Impulsively, she sent a second message.

_P.S. – I love you. xoxoxo_

Before long, her phone beeped, signaling that she'd received a text of her own. She pulled it out of her pocket as she walked along the sidewalk.

_Love you back._

A ribbon of happy warmth unfurled within her. Texting was one of the things Gibbs had learned to do after they'd gotten together. Even he had been able to see the value in being able to send or read a carefully-worded quick message, especially during those first two years when they were hiding in plain sight. However, he only sent messages to her and they were never lengthy – and he refused to send anything remotely resembling a smiley face. Nonetheless, she loved the effort he made to have another way of communicating with her.

Without conscious thought, Ziva found herself walking to the park at the end of their street. The sunny day had brought others out, as well. She sat on a bench and people-watched, smiling as she gazed at children swinging, sliding, running.

Children.

Child.

Her child.

Well, her child in combination with her job.

_That_ was the issue weighing heavily on her mind these days.

She had her next and perhaps last check-up with Dr. Raynor on Monday and it was entirely possible the surgeon would release her to go back to work. She had told Ziva to expect to be off for four to six weeks and four weeks would be up in a few days. Her wound had healed well, she felt good and they'd had yet another appointment this past week with her obstetrician that had yielded nothing but good news about both her and the baby.

In fact, things were going so well that she was now back on the typical schedule of monthly visits with Dr. Smith until she reached her third trimester. At that point, the appointments would occur more frequently as those last three months went along.

Plus, she and Jethro had made arrangements to go to the shooting range at NCIS after hours twice in the past week. She'd attached a silencer to her weapon to protect the baby's developing ears and worked with her gun with no one else around but Gibbs. They each kept silent about their reluctance to do this, knowing it was necessary. It had not taken long before she was pulling her weapon without any hesitation or complaint from her shoulder, and her accuracy was as perfect as it had always been.

But, if she were completely honest, she was hesitant to go back.

She certainly hadn't predicted that.

The bottom line was that nothing was more important to her than Jethro's safety and that of their child. She worried less about Jethro when she knew she had his back on the job … but now she had _two_ equally important people to keep from harm and protecting one of them might put the other at additional risk.

Getting shot in the bullpen was proof enough of that.

Yet, if she had it to do over, she wouldn't change a thing.

And there was the rub.

Until the recent events had transpired, she hadn't completely realized that she would be so fiercely protective of this tiny person who wasn't even the size of a grapefruit yet that all of her previous priorities would be reordered – she'd simply had no reference for it.

Too, she felt an enormous responsibility to do everything she could to keep the baby healthy and safe. Jethro would do anything for them, but there was only so much he could do while the baby was growing inside her.

But how could she not return to NCIS?

And that question wasn't just about being worried that no one else could protect Gibbs like she could, no offense to her teammates.

Until Jethro, being a Mossad officer and then a special agent had defined her, given her purpose. Over time, her work-related abilities had become the only areas in which she felt completely confident.

Besides, she loved her job.

Now, though, she felt as though two very different sides of herself were tugging her in opposite directions.

Subconsciously, she knew what was best, knew what those shadows in Jethro's eyes needed her to do - though he would undoubtedly never give voice to them.

She was just putting off facing it because she was scared that would leave her not really knowing who she was.

Her brows knit together slightly as she heaved an internal sigh.

She was distracted from her thoughts as a rubber ball about the size of her hand bumped into her foot. She looked at the ball, then up at the flash of movement that caught her eye as the apparent owner of the ball toddled her way over in an endearing combination of careful walking, bouncing and attempts to run.

A man around her own age who Ziva guessed to be the little one's father followed close behind.

Ziva picked up the ball and held it out to the little girl with a smile.

"This must be yours."

The little girl reached for it with both hands. "Ball!"

Ziva laughed delightedly. "Yes, that is a ball."

The man who'd been chasing after the little girl reached them.

"Sorry," he apologized, both for the bumping with the ball and the intrusion.

"It is no problem," Ziva assured him with a small smile.

"Ball!" the little girl repeated, making both adults grin. Her dad squatted down beside her.

"Lily, did you say thank you to the nice lady for giving you your ball?"

The little girl said something that sounded a lot like "tank" and pressed the fingers of one hand to her mouth before throwing her arm out toward Ziva.

Ziva smiled at her.

"You are very welcome," she said.

The little girl cocked her head to the side adorably and stared at her father, her face screwed up in confusion. She babbled about something that clearly had to do with Ziva as she kept waving her arm in Ziva's direction. She ended with patting her own cheek.

The man looked up at Ziva sheepishly. "She wants you to catch her kiss and, um, send her one back."

Ah.

Of course.

"I see." Ziva looked at Lily in gentle seriousness. "You will have to forgive me, Lily; I am new at this. Perhaps we could try again?"

With a charming flourish, Lily repeated the gesture of throwing Ziva a kiss.

A warm feeling spread from her heart down through her belly. Ziva caught the kiss in her hand and touched it to her cheek. Then, she raised her fingertips to her lips, pressed a kiss to them, bent her hand back toward Lily and blew the kiss off in the little girl's direction. Lily enthusiastically captured the imaginary kiss out of thin air and pressed it to her own cheek, then positively beamed.

Ziva couldn't take her eyes off the little girl.

"Would you mind if I asked how old she is?" She was guessing somewhere around a year and a half based on her vague recollections of Tali and the reading she was doing. She had so much time on her hands these days that she'd begun reading a book on what to expect in the first three years of a child's life, in addition to keeping up with her pregnancy reading. Still, she was not at all confident in her estimation.

"Twenty months," her dad shared, a note of unmistakable pride in his voice.

"She is beautiful," Ziva murmured, feeling a kick of satisfaction that she'd been pretty darn close in guessing Lily's age. Her voice warmed and her eyes twinkled at the little girl. "And clearly very smart, too."

"Yeah, at this point I'm just hoping to keep up with her through preschool," the guy laughed. He held out a hand in an offer to shake Ziva's. "My name is Kevin."

"I am Ziva," she returned, shaking his hand. "It is nice to meet you – both of you." Her smile was directed toward Lily.

The little girl said something with clear determination that Ziva couldn't catch. She looked to Kevin for the translation.

The irony of this - that the woman who needed two hands to count the number of languages she spoke required a translator herself for a toddler's version of English – did not escape her.

"She wants you to play ball," he explained, "but you don't have to." He looked at Lily. "We've interrupted Ziva's day long enough."

Lily cocked her head at Ziva and started talking again, waving the ball around. Suddenly, she threw it, looked at the ball, looked at Ziva expectantly, and babbled something while pointing in the direction in which she'd thrown her toy. Ziva laughed. This young lady certainly got points for persistence.

"Actually, I would love to play," she admitted with a small smile. Then, she looked at Lily. "But you might have to help me. I do not have a lot of experience at this."

Lily laughed and clapped her hands, clearly delighted that her new friend was going to play. She took off at as fast a clip as her little legs would carry her to retrieve her toy. Once she picked it up, she came half-way back, then threw it at Ziva. It bounced in the grass about a foot shy of Ziva's feet and she bent to pick it up.

Lily, Kevin and Ziva played for a while, alternately throwing and kicking the ball to each other.

"You said you don't have a lot of experience, but you're a natural at this," Kevin observed at one point while keeping a watchful eye on his daughter as she toddled off to the side to rescue the ball from a wild kick. "Do you have kids?"

Ziva shook her head, then shared with a small smile, "Though my husband and I are expecting our first in April."

Technically, his second, her first and _their_ first, but she didn't get into all that.

"Congratulations!"

Her smile deepened in thanks and she tilted her head in acknowledgment of the warm wishes.

Eventually, Kevin broke the news to Lily that it was time to head home and join mommy for dinner. The little girl was not pleased about stopping her play, but brightened at the word "mommy" and allowed Kevin to get her strapped into her stroller with minimal fuss.

"Say goodbye to Ziva," he directed his daughter, tucking their things into the basket under Lily's seat.

Lily immediately lifted a hand and repeatedly opened and closed her fingers adorably.

"Buh-bye, Zeeba," Lily said.

A wave of emotion crashed over "Zeeba."

And just think, she and Jethro were going to have one of these little people …

She couldn't wait.

"Goodbye, Lily," she husked, squatting down on the little girl's level. "Thank you for playing with me today."

Lily smiled widely and babbled something fast and incomprehensible before pressing her fingers to her mouth again and throwing Ziva an exuberant kiss.

Ziva knew just what to do this time. She caught it in the air and touched it to her cheek before blowing one back to Lily. The toddler laughed gaily and fisted it in the air before pressing it to her own round, pink cheek.

"You're a quick learner," Kevin observed to Ziva with a friendly smile before he and Lily headed off with a last goodbye.

"I hope so," Ziva whispered longingly to herself as she watched them go. "I really hope so."


	17. Talking It Through

_The next morning …_

Ziva floated unhurriedly to wakefulness with the warm, welcome presence of her husband's chest under her cheek. When she'd finally fallen into a somewhat-initially-fitful sleep the night before, she'd been alone in the bed. Jethro had called early last evening to let her know that the stake-out had actually paid off big time. They'd nabbed a couple of suspicious-looking characters and had enough probable cause with their evasive behavior and the flash of concealed weapons to haul the two in for questioning.

Given that he was currently Fornell's only backup, Jethro called to tell Ziva he'd be longer than he thought. After dropping vague hints about the possible involvement of a sailor or two, Gibbs had bullied his way past an FBI supervisor and into the interrogation room. He and Tobias had double-teamed each suspect, and Fornell now had enough information to open a proper investigation and pull in some of his own agents.

Ziva had eaten dinner and watched a little television before her sleepiness got the best of her. When Gibbs had come in, it had been well after midnight. She slept harder than usual these days; after all, a body growing a baby needs a lot of rest. When he'd slid under the covers beside her, she had roused just enough to breathe out a contented sigh and snuggle, now fully relaxed, into his arms. He'd smiled and dropped a kiss to her hair before falling into a dreamless sleep, as well.

This morning, she rubbed her cheek against him, tightened the arm that was flung over his waist and turned her face enough to press a small kiss to his chest. Though he wasn't awake yet, his arms tightened reflexively around her.

Before long, her bladder nudged her. No surprise there. With an internal sigh, she slipped noiselessly from the bed.

Ziva quickly made her way to the bathroom, thankful that the nausea had not come to visit as yet. She did her business and didn't waste any time getting back into bed with her husband, loving the way they instinctively melted back into each other.

They lay together for a long while, dozing comfortably. It was Sunday and there was no hurry to get up.

Eventually, Jethro rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked them open to find a sparkling pair of brown ones looking up at him affectionately.

"Morning," he offered with a small smile, his lids dropping back down over those mesmerizing blue eyes as he nestled closer against her.

"Good morning," she returned. "Did you and Tobias get what you needed from those suspects?"

"Mhm," he murmured. "Investigation's all his now."

"Did you eat some dinner when you got home? And did Tobias take his soup?" she fussed.

She'd sent both men a text before going to bed, directing Fornell to come in when he brought Jethro home and take the container of soup that she had waiting in the refrigerator for him.

He'd eaten her cooking before, so she didn't have to tell him twice.

Gibbs nodded with his characteristic smirk.

"Good," Ziva pronounced before her hand began wondering over his magnificent chest. Her leg was resting between his and her hips unconsciously began rubbing pleasurably against him. She tilted her head back until her lips could reach his throat.

His hands slipped under her shirt to slide sensuously up and down her back.

"How's your stomach this morning?" he asked in a low voice that skittered up her spine.

He felt her lips curve against his skin before she suddenly rolled on top of him.

"My stomach feels excellent," she announced, bending down to capture his earlobe between her teeth before soothing the gentle bite with her tongue. Against the shell of his ear, she murmured suggestively, "Ask me how the rest of me is feeling."

He grinned as he shifted his hips to cradle her closer against him.

Okay, he'd bite.

"How's the rest of you feeling?" he obliged, enjoying the kisses she was pressing to his ear, his throat.

"Frisky."

He chuckled out loud and she raised her head to shine twinkling eyes down at him.

"Like the sound of _that_," he murmured, capturing her lips in a soft kiss that made her stomach clench and heat pool at her center as it deepened.

Between her nausea and recovery, they hadn't had morning sex in weeks and he'd missed it. He loved starting his day sliding inside her.

"My book said this might happen," she breathed when he released her mouth.

He looked up at her quizzically.

"That I might want you even more during the second trimester," she explained, rubbing the backs of her fingers over his cheek as her eyes wandered over his handsome features. Then she grinned and rubbed her nose affectionately against his. "Though given how much I always want you, it is difficult to see how it could be _more_."

Regardless, he wasn't complaining.

"_Oorah _for second trimesters," he offered before he kissed her laughing grin right off her face.

Gibbs rolled her under him and slid his hand under the front of her shirt. Ziva tugged at his t-shirt until she had it off. With a hum of pleasure, she smoothed her hands up and down his back, over his shoulders, down to his hips.

Her stomach growled.

He raised his head and smirked down at her.

"Think maybe I should feed you," he observed.

"_I_ think you should make love to me, _then_ feed me," she countered, tipping her pelvis into his hardening shaft and catching her bottom lip in her teeth from the pure pleasure of it.

So, like any smart man who loved and wanted his sexy, hormonal ninja wife, he did exactly as she suggested.

* * *

Afterward, they showered together and then made scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast. By the time they'd eaten, perused the paper and cleaned up, the sun had taken most of the morning chill out of the air. They sat out on their big back porch in the beautiful wooden glider he'd built for them, a mug of coffee in his hand and a cup of ginger tea in hers. Ziva was snuggled in close to Jethro, her head against his shoulder.

"How was your walk yesterday?" he inquired casually before taking a sip of his fragrant brew.

"It was nice," she responded. After a pause, she added with a small smile as she thought back to yesterday, "Actually, it was much better than nice."

"Yeah?"

She nodded.

"Tell me about it," he invited.

"Well, to begin with, I made a new friend," she informed him.

"Oh?"

She decided to play with him. "His name is Kevin."

One eyebrow nearly reached his hairline.

"So, where can I find him to make sure he understands you're mine?"

She bit back a grin.

"I am not sure where he lives, but do not worry," she replied airily. "I mentioned that I have a husband and besides – he is much too young for me."

"How young?"

"About my age," she informed him, hiding her cheeky grin in her mug.

He snorted and then reached down to pinch her ass for teasing him. At that, she tilted her head back and snagged his gaze with laughing brown eyes. A wave of love and attraction washed over her.

"Plus, his hair is far too brown …" She sifted his striking silver hair through her fingers. "And his eyes …" She paused, clearly considering. "I actually have no idea what color his eyes are, but they are _not _this incredible shade of blue." She tapped one fingertip lightly, lovingly near one of his eyes and then let out a mock sigh. "Apparently you have ruined me for all other men."

He grinned.

"I will admit that Kevin did have one main attraction," she admitted coyly.

He raised an eyebrow that wordlessly drawled _Oh?_

She nodded and finally relented.

"His twenty-month-old daughter, Lily." She couldn't stop the soft smile that curved her lips as she thought back to the little girl.

His heart melted at the look on her face. The arm he had wrapped around her shoulders turned her in closer and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"She asked me to play ball with them," she revealed quietly, the pleasure and wonder in her voice melting his heart even further.

"Yeah?"

She nodded.

"In fact, she was adorably insistent about it. And she loves to blow kisses." She paused, replaying her interaction with Lily in her mind. She tilted her head back and looked up at him. "She had to remind me about blowing them back, though I needed a bit of translation from her father on that."

He grinned knowingly.

"Bet he knew exactly what she was saying," he guessed, the voice of experience.

She nodded.

"You will, too, with our baby," he predicted without a doubt in his tone.

Her gaze became wistful, hopeful. "You are certain of that?"

"Yep," he replied firmly. "And before that, you'll be telling me whether a cry means hungry, wet or 'hold me.'"

She looked up at him with wide eyes. She hadn't even considered that.

"How do you know that?"

He shrugged.

"Mothers figure those things out," he offered. His gaze grew a little unfocused as his mind went back in time.

"What about fathers?" she asked very softly, knowing from the look on his face that he was thinking about Kelly as a baby.

He blinked a couple of times and focused on her face once more. After a few seconds, a ghost of his characteristic smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"We usually figure it out, too – with help." He smoothed a hand over her hair and his smile deepened as he studied her face. "Least, Shannon had to help me."

"I think you will be the one helping me," she noted wryly, dropping her head back onto his chest. After a moment of silent thinking, she admitted, "Though Kevin did say yesterday I was a natural with Lily – and she seemed to agree."

The happy lilt to her voice broadened his smile even further.

"Bet that's right."

They sat in companionable silence, each caught up in their own thoughts for a short while. Ziva's mind went back to the internal struggle she'd been having.

Maybe she just needed to stop putting the biggest parts of herself into her work and trust that she _could_ do this. After all, she had Jethro as her partner and she could not ask for a more perfect one, not for her. He would have her back and she would have his.

Always. In everything.

She took a deep breath and let it out, releasing at least some of her fears on the wind.

It was time to talk to Jethro.

Ziva cleared her throat gently and leaned over to place her mug on the concrete floor of the porch.

Sitting back up, she asked him, "You remember that we have another appointment with Dr. Raynor tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Already cleared the time off – took the whole afternoon."

He felt a slight tension creep into her limbs just before she squeezed his thigh affectionately and then pushed off to pace. Taking her emotions in hand, she paused back near the glider, her back to him as she gazed out unseeingly over the yard, one arm resting protectively over her middle as her other hand slid her Star of David pendant back and forth on its chain as she was wont to do when she was anxious or thinking.

"My shoulder is fine now," she finally began. "She might release me to go back to work unless Dr. Smith disagrees, and there is nothing to suggest that she will."

He nodded slightly in agreement, then added a low _Mhm_ since her back was still to him. He put enough encouragement in the sound to keep her talking, thankful that she was finally doing just that.

A pregnant silence rested between them.

"I do not think I can go back," she whispered. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, then noiselessly let it out. He watched her shoulders square as she dug deep into that well of strength he loved and admired about her. She turned to face him. "I know I cannot go back … not right now."

He looked into her eyes, making note of the various emotions swirling in them. Worry. Certainty. Uncertainty. Hope.

He placed his own mug on the floor of the porch and walked over to stand in front of her. He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently, reassuringly. The warmth and understanding in his touch, on his face, pushed everything but gratitude from her eyes in that moment. She raised her hand from her necklace to rest on top of one of his, squeezing it appreciatively.

"Okay. Talk to me," he invited quietly.

After an affectionate press of her fingers against his, she stepped away. He understood she needed to move and let his hands fall away from her.

"From the very beginning – even before we were together, even before I understood you were the other half of me - whenever anyone has pointed a gun in your direction, everything else falls away except my need to protect you. No matter what."

They were both quiet as each of them remembered the night she shot Ari in his basement, for no other reason than to save his life … no matter her father's orders on how to deal with a traitor.

The movement of her hand smoothing protectively over her stomach brought them both out of their reverie.

"But now I have two of you to protect," she whispered. "My focus is divided … which is dangerous for everyone involved."

Ziva looked him full in the face, her gaze pensive.

"So I think I cannot go back, at least for now. Not even to desk duty in the squad room."

He moved to pull her close to him, wrapping her and their child in his arms, giving in to his own protective urges. He smoothed a hand over her hair, up and down her back. Slowly, she relaxed gratefully into him.

"Do you think that makes me weak?" she whispered.

He shook his head.

"Think it means you're strong enough to protect all of us, even when the decision is a hard one." He rested his cheek on the top of her head. "Think it makes you a mother."

A sob caught in her throat as she squeezed her eyes tightly against the tears that threatened. The arms she'd wrapped around his chest tightened, holding him more closely to her … so, so grateful for him and that way he had of saying exactly what she needed to hear.

Gibbs tipped her face up to his. "This isn't about me, is it? And the other night?"

They both knew he was referring to his recent nightmare.

Her face softened and she reached up to caress his cheek with her fingers.

"No," she husked as she shook her head. "This is about what is best for our family." Then, a small smile curved her lips and her voice strengthened. "But if it helps you sleep better, too, well …" She shrugged lightly as her eyes sparkled warmly. "That is just icing on the cupcake."

His lips twitched at her slight misuse of the phrase and hugged her tightly. She held him back and they simply rested against each other in silence for a long moment.

"Do you need me to leave, too?" he asked quietly. He didn't want to, but he also didn't want her worrying herself sick over his safety.

She tilted her head back far enough to look into his face. The love in her eyes and in her smile made his heart thump.

"Do you have any idea how much I adore that you would even ask that?"

She squeezed him hard, then she shook her head.

"The answer is no," she responded firmly. "They need you and you need to be there."

"Need you more."

The delighted curve to her lips tugged at him even before she pulled his head down to hers.

"_That_ is very good to hear," she murmured against his lips before kissing him brainless.

Leaving her hand to cup his jaw, she pulled back slightly and gazed into his eyes.

"You have me, always – and I do not need you to be someone you are not," she shared. Then a definite twinkle came into her own eyes. "Besides, one of us needs a job – and health insurance. I have heard that having a baby is a very expensive venture."

He chuckled and just held onto her. She sighed happily and melted completely into him, feeling like the weight of the world had just been lifted from her shoulders.

And, in a sense, it had been. She'd just needed to share it with him.

"But we have to find something for me to do, or I will drive you crazy," she acknowledged ruefully.

"You already drive me crazy," he growled playfully into her ear, pressing their lower halves together so as to leave no room for doubt as to what he meant.

"That is certainly mutual," she drawled, tilting her head in silent encouragement for him to kiss her neck. He did not disappoint her. "But I am not talking about the good kind of crazy."

He grinned against her skin as she nuzzled her face into him.

"We'll talk to Leon, then figure something out," he promised her. Then he made an admission of his own. "How hard would you punch me if I said part of me's gonna miss you like hell at work, but part of me's relieved?"

She smiled tenderly and gave him a squeeze.

"Since I know the relief is coming from the husband and father in you, I will not punch you at all."

He chuckled and wrapped her in close, resting his chin on her head.

"But you do know you cannot wrap me up in …" She looked up at him quizzically. "How do you say it?"

"Cotton - ?"

"Yes, that is it," she nodded. "You cannot wrap me in cotton and keep me locked in the house. You do realize that, yes?"

His characteristic grin played about his mouth. She knew him well, his Ziver.

"Was thinking more like Kevlar." The twinkle in his eyes said he was teasing … almost.

Her laugh danced on the air between them. She reached up and planted a kiss on his mouth.

"Promise me you will never change," she grinned up at him.

He smiled and tucked her hair behind one ear.

"Pretty sure you're stuck with me just like this."

He guided her back over to the glider and sat, tugging her down beside him. She snuggled into him, not wanting to be anywhere else.

She was silent for a moment. He could hear her thinking.

"What?" He encouraged her to respond with a gentle squeeze.

"How would you feel about me not working full time? Even now, before the baby comes," she put out there softly.

He looked down at her in some surprise.

"Okay by me. What makes you ask?"

She paused, collecting her thoughts.

"I would like some time to …" She looked away, picturing the future in her mind's eye. Then she backed up a little, trying to explain. "I do a lot of things well, but none of them is remotely motherly."

The slight dejection in her tone nudged his heart. With a gentle finger under her chin, he brought her gaze back to his.

"You're wrong about that," he said firmly.

The look in her eyes said she wanted to believe him.

"And if you don't believe me, maybe we should track down Lily and ask her." He smiled at her even as all the love he felt for her reached for her from his own eyes.

She gazed back at him before relaxing against him.

"Actually, I had moments yesterday when it _did_ feel very … natural," she admitted. "I know that our baby and I can count on you. I want to be able to count on myself, too - more than for the fleeting moments I have now when I think maybe I really can be the kind of mother I wish for our child.

"I would like to be able to take some time to … find that side of me," she revealed slowly. Then her lips curved wryly as she glanced up at him. "And before you ask, no, I have no idea how."

One side of his mouth tucked in with that smile of his as he squeezed her in for a kiss to her forehead.

"I just think that …" She paused, searching for the words. "I just feel like I have a lot to learn; I do not want to wait until the baby gets here to figure out how to be more than an agent."

She looked up at him pensively.

"Does that sound stupid since I am not even four months pregnant yet?"

He smiled gently and shook his head.

She had one more thing on her mind. She took a deep breath and spilled that, too.

"And, Jethro?"

"Yeah?"

"Imaywanttostayhomewiththebab y."

He was silent as he replayed that in his mind, trying to decipher what she'd said. His pulse kicked up a little when he thought he had it. He didn't want her to be someone she wasn't either, but he couldn't deny that he loved the idea.

She wasn't sure what to make of his silence and so she filled it nervously.

"I do not know for how long and I may need to do _something _else, too, at some point – even if it involves working from home in some way, but …" She searched for words with her hands fluttering in the air, further giving away her nerves. "I just … I know what you are thinking. You are probably surprised – I am surprised, too. And I am a little terrified because I will not know what I am doing and I am worried that I will not feel like myself and that I will not be enough for the baby, but … the baby is not even here yet and already I, I cannot imagine –"

Jethro lifted her chin and bent his head, effectively stopping her words and her brain with his lips. Only after she'd relaxed completely into him returning his kiss, did he lift his head. He felt an immense satisfaction that he'd rendered her dazed and speechless.

Pulling her across his lap, he cradled her to him.

"You can't imagine that anyone could love and protect our child the way we will," he finished for her quietly, warmly.

She closed her eyes and buried her face in his neck, then she nodded wordlessly.

"You're right."

His affirmation melted the last of her tension.

Cupping the side of her face in his hand, he tilted her head back so he could see her eyes. His tender smile had her blinking back the moisture that stung there.

"Gotta admit, like the idea of you or me being here with the baby most of the time for as long as you want," he shared. "But remember, we're in this together. Whenever you're ready to add some kind of work back in, we'll figure that out, too. If we need to, we'll find someone or some place that feels right to help with childcare. Deal?"

She nodded, vastly relieved, and whispered, "Thank you."

He squeezed her in tightly and dropped a kiss to her head.

"And, Ziver?"

She tilted her head back to look at him quizzically.

"You realize you just made three decisions only a mother would make in under half an hour, right?"

Her eyes grew wide as she considered his words and thought back over their conversation. A beautiful smile brightened her face and her eyes sparkled. She threw her arms up around his neck and squeezed him tightly as she laughed in pure, unadulterated delight.

_I did! _he could almost hear her shouting in her head.

He chuckled and held her back. God, he loved her.

"Time to start trusting your gut in this, too, babe," he observed affectionately.

"Perhaps it is," she agreed, looking into his handsome face. Raising her fingers to his cheek, she added, "Thank you for being exactly the husband I need."

"Just glad you think I am," he responded wryly.

"I love you," she murmured, her heart in her eyes.

"Love you, too."

"Do you think we could call the director?"

"Sure." Then he noticed the expectant hope in her big brown doe eyes. "You mean right now?"

She nodded wordlessly.

Sunday or not, he understood she needed this to feel a little more settled, so he did the only thing he could.

"Works for me," he agreed, giving that single nod to the side he often did.

Before they stood, she brought her lips to his and they shared a kiss that said everything else they hadn't. Then, holding hands, united as always, they went into the house to get his phone.


	18. Expect The Unexpected

_A/N: And we're back! Finally, eh? My sincere apologies for the unexpected hiatus between postings here. RL, a reluctant muse and writing other things got in the way._

_Please note that in this fic, JACKIE & ELI DID NOT DIE. I was just gutted over that, especially about Jackie, and that was made worse by the fact that I had started this chapter and she figures largely in the next one. Knowing I was about to write some stuff for her that I totally love somehow made the loss all that more heart-wrenching._

_Also, I have decided to keep the names of Vance's kids consistent with "Revelations" as I took those directly from the cast list of the first ep in which we met them: "Knock Out" (6x18). Those names are Delilah ("Lily") & Jared. NCIS has pulled one of those inconsistencies that make me crazy and Leon's daughter's name is suddenly Kayla. I guess no one went back to look (unlike yours truly).  
_

_This chapter picks up right where the last one left off. Thanks for reading and please consider reviewing. =)_

* * *

"Thanks, Leon."

Gibbs started to hang up, but stopped when Vance asked him to hold on. Jackie's voice could be heard faintly in the background and then the director's voice came back on the line.

"_Why don't you two stay for lunch? Nothing fancy – just throwing some burgers on the grill while the kids play around in the pool."_

Gibbs covered the mouthpiece on his phone and looked at Ziva.

"Jackie wants us to stay for lunch. Okay by you?"

Ziva hesitated, then nodded.

"We're in," Jethro spoke into the phone and then it was his turn to say _Hang on_ as his wife tugged at his arm to get his attention. He looked at her with both eyebrows raised.

"Ask them what we can bring," she directed.

"Ziva wants to know what we can bring," Gibbs obliged.

"_Maybe it's time to put our wives on the phone," Vance suggested dryly._

Gibbs agreed and held out his phone to Ziva.

She took it with a questioning glance.

"Jackie," he murmured.

Ziva put the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Ziva. Let me guess: Jethro wants to back out on lunch, but he wants you to do the dirty work."

Ziva laughed lightly in spite of her nerves.

"No, but we do not wish to impose," Ziva began.

"You won't be imposing. You'll get your business out of the way, then we'll have a nice visit. It'll be good to see you; I've been wondering how you're doing. But don't expect anything fancy for lunch – burgers, couple salads, a vegetable tray I'll have to make all three of the kids in my house eat from." Ziva grinned as she could just picture Jackie giving Leon a look that said _Y__es, I'm talking about you, too, mister_.

Ziva eyeballed her own husband.

"Make that four."

Jackie chuckled.

"What can we bring?" Ziva asked.

"I can't think of anything …" Her voice trailed off as she was clearly distracted by something – or someone. Ziva could tell the other woman was rolling her eyes as she came back on the line. "Apparently my husband wouldn't mind if you brought ice cream for dessert, and I'll admit I'm not above using it to bribe the kids into eating the vegetables."

"Ice cream it is, then. We will see you soon."

Ziva hung up and looked at Jethro.

"We are taking ice cream," she announced unnecessarily.

"Sounds good."

They went upstairs to change into something more appropriate for visiting. Gibbs thought Ziva's thrilled grin might split her cheeks when she discovered she could no longer zip her favorite jeans that fit her like a painted-on glove without feeling like she was squishing the baby. While she didn't need maternity clothes yet, loosely fitting or soft pants were apparently her new normal.

And the flying hug with which she tackled her husband told him she couldn't have been happier about it.

They stopped at a supermarket on the way to the director's home. Ziva put some vanilla ice cream in the cart that would be good to load up with toppings and added another flavor that she thought the kids might like. Jethro added two more kinds to the basket that he knew were Ziva's particular favorites, while she picked out some chocolate sauce and a couple of other toppings. She looked at the additional cartons, then up at him with her eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline.

"Baby might want some ice cream once you get through being nervous," he pointed out with a twinkle in his eye. "Just want to make sure we have whatever flavor you two are in the mood for."

She huffed a laughing snort out through her nose – but he was right. It may be one of those predictable cravings, but ice cream did sound very good to her these days.

At least pickles hadn't made it into the mix.

Yet, anyway.

* * *

_Meanwhile …_

Leon came up behind his wife as she worked in the kitchen to put the finishing touches on her broccoli salad. He attempted to distract her with a one-armed hug around the waist as he reached for some of the raisins meant for the salad, but she was onto his tricks and slapped his hand away.

"So, what do Jethro and Ziva need to talk to you about that couldn't wait until tomorrow?" she asked, though not unkindly.

He just shrugged. Gibbs hadn't said.

Jackie gave him a speaking look over her shoulder.

"What are you going to say when that girl tells you she's not coming back to work?"

Vance's eyes widened slightly in surprise at her question.

"You know something I don't?" he asked.

"Only what it's like to be a pregnant woman," Jackie answered smoothly.

Huh.

Good thing he'd already given that situation some thought. They hadn't given him the Big Chair for nothing.

* * *

_A short time later …_

Jackie greeted them at the door and accepted a kiss on the cheek from Gibbs. She directed them to follow her to the kitchen and she put the ice cream in the freezer as they chatted lightly.

The large room flowed down one step into a tiled family dining room, on the other side of which was the glassed-in pool area. It was an ingenious design that included a partially-retractable roof and sliding doors all around the sides so that it easily became an indoor-outdoor pool. Several tall plants created an almost tropical atmosphere.

The Vances had added the pool as the kids got older, and Jackie had wanted something they could use even in the winter without sacrificing the feel of being outdoors in the summer. She knew it might save her sanity at times to have something physical they would enjoy doing instead of being cooped up in the house in the cold and she liked the idea of having a place her kids and their friends would want to hang out at rather than her children heading off to their friends' houses all the time. The rec room in the basement had been designed with a similar goal in mind.

"Ziva!"

Ziva turned toward the pool area as she heard Jared shout her name excitedly from where he and his sister were swimming.

With a smile, she excused herself from their hostess and walked over to say hello to the kids.

Jackie's lips curved up as she threw Jethro an amused glance.

"You realize it's a good thing that boy isn't older or he'd be giving you a run for your money there," she observed with a twinkle in her eye. "He's been half in love with her since the day they met."

"Kid's got good taste – like his dad." His blue eyes twinkled as he watched Jackie blush lightly with an embarrassed, but pleased chuckle.

"Oh, you," she said, slapping affectionately at his chest. "Take that smooth tongue of yours and go on out of my kitchen. Leon's out back getting the grill ready."

With a flash of his characteristic grin, he walked down beside his wife as she squatted near the water to talk to Jared and Delilah.

"Hey, kids." He smiled down at them as they returned his greeting.

After listening to Ziva ask the children about school, he caught her eye.

"Leon's out back." He gestured to the left with his head indicating the area where the grill was set up in sight of the pool, but on the other side of the large patio area.

She reached for his hand and gave it a grateful squeeze as she stood easily. She appreciated that he intuitively understood that she needed to get her talk with the director out of the way first. After promising to visit more later, they left the kids to their playing and hunted up the director.

They found him messing with the grill, though everything already gleamed. Jethro eyed Leon's _Kiss the Cook_ apron with one eyebrow raised. His boss raised his own brow in that way he had of daring the other man to make a comment. For once, Gibbs bit his tongue with a twitch of his lips.

"Hello, you two. Hope you brought your appetites," Vance greeted them easily. "Jackie's made enough food for a small army."

"That is probably good. It should balance out the four cartons of ice cream Jethro picked out," Ziva responded with a teasing glance up at her husband, who just grinned.

Leon smiled and then gestured toward a circle of nearby chairs. Gibbs sat right beside Ziva, while the director took a seat across from them. He spoke first.

"So. What's on your mind?"

Ziva's gaze caught Jethro's for a moment. He reached for her hand and she grasped it gratefully. Taking a breath, she began quietly.

"I will be seeing my surgeon tomorrow for another check-up and I have every reason to expect that she will release me to go back to work soon, perhaps even this week. However …" She paused to gather her courage, then looked at Leon directly and went right to the heart of the matter. "I do not believe I can come back. I love my job and I am honored and grateful to be part of NCIS. It has changed my life for the better in so many ways I never expected."

She exchanged a warm glance with her husband that spoke volumes before continuing.

"I do want to do some kind of work, but right now … returning to the job I have been doing, even on desk duty in the squad room, feels as though I would be putting the baby and Jethro at more risk and I simply cannot do that."

Vance looked at her thoughtfully, chewing on his toothpick. Making some kind of internal decision, he pulled the sliver of wood from his mouth and encompassed them both in his gaze.

"I figured there would come a point when we needed to have some version of this conversation," he admitted. "Didn't expect it so soon, though."

"I did not either," Ziva admitted wryly, glancing at Jethro.

His reassuring half-smile and squeeze of her fingers steadied her.

"When the time came, I had an idea to pitch to you," Vance revealed surprisingly. "Guess the time is now."

Ziva looked at him in surprise, while Gibbs gave him a steady eye that gave nothing away. The air seemed to shift around him, though, as his protective hackles rose.

"You bring a lot to your position at NCIS, Ziva," Leon began. "More than the average agent. I won't lie and say it's all been rainbows and roses, but, on the whole, I'd say we're better off with you than without you."

Ziva blushed lightly. She stayed quiet because she just didn't know what to say to that.

"On average of about once a week, I get a phone call from one of my counterparts asking for your assistance in one of their cases or investigations." Ziva couldn't hold back the surprise on her face. "Sometimes it's as simple as needing some translation or interpreting when other avenues aren't available or the requests are backed up into the next decade; other times it's wanting to pick your brain about a situation involving the Middle East, having you in on an interrogation or requesting that you mine your extensive contacts for information."

Ziva was floored.

"I had no idea," she murmured hesitantly. She'd helped out other agencies from the sidelines occasionally at the director's request, but had no idea he turned away so many appeals for her expertise.

"That's because I generally say no," he said without remorse. "You're an NICS agent and we need you. I can't have you or any of my agents spread too thin." Then he glanced at Jethro with a smirk. "Besides, Gibbs would have my head."

Both Ziva and Jethro grinned at that, as Gibbs nodded his head to the side once in the affirmative.

"However, knowing you'd be out of field work indefinitely sooner or later, I've been thinking of putting you in a position for me to say yes to more of those requests, with some clear guidelines in place. Inter-agency cooperation usually benefits all involved."

"Not to mention they scratch our backs if we scratch theirs," Gibbs offered astutely.

"You don't say," Vance deadpanned with a gleam in his eye. He paused for a moment, then looked back at Ziva. "If time allows, you could assist in-house on cases and fill in for me at some of the endless round of meetings on my calendar, since my Deputy Director is always off in some other location – which suits both of us just fine."

Ziva was quiet as she mulled over what he said.

"I was not expecting anything like this at all," Ziva admitted faintly. Then a shadow crossed her big brown eyes. "Please do not think I am not grateful or not interested, but …"

Her voice trailed off for a moment, then she caught Vance's gaze as a somewhat guarded, yet determined look came over her face.

"This is not about my father, is it?" Ziva asked carefully.

"No," Vance answered firmly. "Your father may be my friend, but this offer is purely self-serving."

Ziva was silent again as she considered his surprising proposal.

"The kind of position you are describing …" she began slowly. "It occurs to me that I began my career here as the Mossad liaison to NCIS, and now I would be …" Her voice drifted off, unsure of how to put it.

"The NCIS consultant to everyone else," Vance put in. "Within reason – and at my discretion."

He paused to let that sink in.

"No CIA unless I go with her." There was no room for argument in Gibbs' voice as he made that contribution to the discussion.

Vance looked at him, somewhat amused.

"I had been thinking not without me, but I imagine we can take you along for decoration."

His eyes fairly twinkled at Jethro, as Ziva couldn't help but chuckle and Gibbs nearly snorted.

Leon returned to laying out his thoughts on how this might work.

"There's a small office down the hall from mine, further back. There's room for a desk and not much more, but it should suit your purposes. You could have that when you're in the building, which would get you out of the bullpen – although there's a new rule that no suspects are to be brought through there and anyone who breaks it will be fired on the spot." Vance's eyes hardened as he thought back to what had triggered that decision. Then he relaxed a bit and looked at Gibbs. "And if that doesn't feel protected enough, we can always give her a cubicle in MTAC."

Jethro's characteristic smile tugged slightly at one side of his mouth – though both men were giving serious contemplation to that suggestion.

"Director, I appreciate your willingness to work with us on this more than I can say," Ziva began quietly. "But you should know that I would like to go ahead and cut my hours back to less than full time for the rest of my pregnancy …" She paused, then looked him steadily in the eye. "And I am not sure when – or even if – I will be returning after the baby comes. I would hate for you to go out of your way for me so much, only to have me available for just a few months."

"Neither of those things comes as a surprise to me, Ziva," Vance revealed. "And the offer still stands."

Never in her wildest dreams had Ziva expected to feel so necessary, so _wanted_ by an agency that had somewhat reluctantly embraced her initially. She was humbled – and warmed in the best possible way.

"Of course, we would have to replace you on Gibbs' team," Vance pointed out.

The director had some thoughts on that, too, but he kept those to himself for now.

Jethro shifted in his seat, trying not to bristle at Leon's observation. As hard as it was to think about, the man was right.

Ziva looked at her husband with a faint smile, and it was her turn to squeeze his hand soothingly.

She was quiet for a long moment, gazing off into the distance as she allowed all of this to roll around in her mind. She'd had no idea what other kind of work she might do besides being an agent, especially being pregnant, and had to admit this was very appealing on many levels – not the least of which was knowing that she would still be formally connected to NCIS and to the friends who had become her family.

But, she and her husband were a team and they would talk it through before making a final decision.

"Jethro and I will talk about it and I will let you know," she said firmly, looking at Leon. "Thank you."

Leon tilted his head forward in the affirmative.

"Now, I believe I will see if I can help with anything in the kitchen." With a small smile for both men and another press of Jethro's hand, Ziva walked into the house.

Gibbs looked over at Vance.

"Purely self-serving, huh?"

The director looked at him with a poker face that gave nothing away.

"You wouldn't be implying I might have a soft spot for one of my agents now, would you, Gibbs?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Director," Jethro responded with a smirk playing about his mouth.

"Good. Because the only person who's supposed to know that about me is my wife."

_TBC ..._


	19. You've Got A Friend

A couple of hours later, Ziva was helping Jackie put the leftovers away in the kitchen while Gibbs and Leon were shooting hoops with the kids. They'd had an enjoyable, easygoing lunch sitting around a patio table outside, taking advantage of one of those warm, sunny days that can come out of nowhere in the fall.

Given that it was mid-October, there wouldn't be many of those left.

The women worked in a companionable near-silence, broken only at first by Ziva's questions about where something should go, then by sharing a chuckle over something one or the other of the kids had said during lunch. When everything was put away, Jackie poured them each a glass of herbal peach iced tea and they sat together at the kitchen table watching through the window as the men played with the kids.

"So, tell me, Ziva," Jackie invited warmly, "how are you?"

Ziva opened her mouth to say _Fine_, but Jackie stopped her by laying a gentle hand on the younger woman's forearm where it lay on the table.

"The truth," she directed kindly, snagging Ziva's gaze.

Ziva smiled slightly and looked down at her glass as her hands fiddled with it.

"I am doing well," she shared softly. She looked up at Jackie. "And doing better every day."

"Glad to hear it," Jackie responded, seeing the truth on Ziva's face. After another gentle squeeze, she moved her hand from Ziva's arm. "And the baby?"

"He – or she," Ziva amended quickly, "is doing amazingly fine. Everything is exactly as it should be." She positively glowed as she thought about the baby growing inside her. "I will admit I breathed a little more easily after moving into my second trimester. I do not even have to see the doctor again for almost a month, but I will miss seeing the baby on the ultrasound so regularly."

Jackie's eyes lit up.

"Do you have a picture with you?"

Ziva gave her a look that clearly telegraphed _Of course _and reached for her purse that was sitting on the counter.

It never even occurred to her just how much that alone spoke of the motherly instincts about which she worried a great deal.

She pulled out her small collection of copies that she carried with her all the time; the originals were already in a frame or two or in a scrapbook at home on her bedside table.

"I love looking at these," Jackie admitted and they poured over them, finding all the little details as the baby's development progressed from one black-and-white photo to another.

Ziva rubbed a finger gently over the one where the baby had waved as she was getting a bullet removed from her back. Her anxiety about what could have happened to the baby in the whole process from getting shot to healing plainly showed on her face.

"I have never been so scared in my life," Ziva whispered, surprising them both.

However, there was just something about Jackie, something that drew her in, made her comfortable. She'd always admired the older woman, but she'd gotten to know her somewhat better personally after she and Jethro had gotten married. Jackie was kind, funny, warm and engaging – someone that just made you want to be around her, open up to her.

"I know," Jackie said softly.

Something in her tone drew Ziva's eyes to her face. Jackie's slightly sad, faraway expression said her mind was somewhere other than at that table, though she didn't move her eyes from the ultrasound pictures.

"Mrs. Vance - ?" she asked tentatively.

Jackie came out of her reverie with a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"How many times am I going to have to tell you to call me Jackie before you actually do it?" she requested lightly, playfully serious.

Ziva smiled.

"All right. Jackie."

"Very good," the older woman approved, the warmth she normally wore like a second skin seeping back into her expression.

"Are you … all right?" Ziva asked hesitantly. She didn't want to pry, but …

Jackie reached over and squeezed one of Ziva's hands.

"I'm fine," she assured her. "Just remembering …"

She paused for a moment.

"I was pregnant before I had Delilah, but I lost that baby when I was ten weeks along," she shared softly. She looked at Ziva with sisterly concern. "Now don't you go getting scared again, you hear me? My situation was completely different from yours." She glanced away. "And I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," Ziva said quickly, moving her hand out from under Jackie's to rest on top of it. "I mean, yes, you should have."

Jackie looked back at her.

"I am honored that you would share that with me," Ziva assured her quietly. "And I am so sorry for your loss."

Jackie found a small smile.

"It was a long time ago," she said. "And it helps to think that if things had turned out differently, I wouldn't have Lily and Jared might not have turned out to be Jared."

"I cannot imagine …" Ziva's voice trailed off. Instinctively, she laid her hand protectively over her belly.

"And don't you start imagining it again," Jackie said firmly. Her voice softened. "It's the hardest thing I've ever gone through, but I wasn't alone and we got through it."

Her voice strengthened and she reached over with her free hand and squeezed Ziva's where it still rested on her other one.

"And you're already through the most worrisome time and you aren't alone either." Her words of wisdom went a long way toward helping Ziva's vague worries settle again for now.

"Even though I am relieved to have made it to thirteen weeks with no problems, I have decided not to return to work as an agent," Ziva confided.

"And what did my husband say to that?" Jackie asked with an eyebrow lifted, correctly assuming that this was what had driven the couple to seek out Leon on a weekend.

"He was very understanding," Ziva revealed, clearly still a little in awe of his reaction.

"Good. Then he won't have to sleep on the couch tonight."

Ziva's surprise showed on her face.

"You would not do that," she responded. Something about Jackie's nonverbal cues made her ask tentatively, "Would you?"

"Would – and have," Jackie admitted with a gleam in her eye.

Ziva clearly didn't know what to say.

"I love that man, but we've been married a long time and occasionally he needs to be reminded of his priorities," Jackie declared. "And of the fact that around here, he is not The Director, he's a member of a family."

Ziva still looked rather amazed.

"Come on," Jackie coaxed. "You've never been tempted to kick Jethro to the couch?"

Ziva shook her head no.

"Well, talk to me in twenty years," Jackie suggested knowingly. "He's bound to have done something he needs to make up for by then."

"Perhaps," Ziva allowed with a smile. Then her tone shifted to a suggestive drawl. "Although, if he felt he had something to make up to me and I was not too angry to let him even think about touching me, I believe the last place I would want him is the couch." The twinkle in her eyes told Jackie exactly what she was talking about.

Jackie threw back her head and laughed.

"Good point, Ziva."

She stood to refill their glasses.

"So, what are you going to do with yourself if you're not going back to work?"

"Actually, I would like to do some kind of work, at least for now, and the Director made me an offer that is … intriguing."

"Oh?"

Ziva nodded and explained Vance's proposal.

"Is that far enough removed from what happened?" Jackie asked astutely.

Ziva paused, considering.

"I believe so," she shared slowly. "After all, as I have said to Jethro, I cannot stay locked in the house wrapped up in cotton – or Kevlar, which would be his choice."

Both women grinned knowingly at that before Ziva continued.

"Things happen every day that have nothing to do with the kind of work we do – we cannot protect me or the baby from everything, as much as I want to." Ziva paused for a moment. "And my main concern was really over the fact that my focus would be split between my need to protect Jethro and my need to protect the baby. That is a recipe for disaster."

"I see what you mean," Jackie put in.

"So, Jethro and I will discuss it and make a decision together." Ziva sat with her thoughts for a moment. "And Director Vance did not even blink when I told him I would like to cut my hours back for the rest of my pregnancy."

"I thought you said you were doing well," Jackie said, concerned.

"I am," Ziva said immediately. "I just …"

She looked down at her glass of tea.

"This will probably sound silly to you," she almost mumbled.

"I doubt that," Jackie smiled. "Try me."

"I just feel like I have so much to learn about being a mother," Ziva admitted softly, slowly. "I would like some time to focus on that before the baby arrives." A self-conscious curve graced her lips. "Although I have no idea what to do besides read books – which I am already doing."

Then she thought of something.

"Well, there is one thing. Have you met Agent Millin's wife, Veronica?" Ziva asked.

Jackie shook her head.

"We are becoming friends and she is expecting their first, as well, though she is due within a few more weeks. She invited me to join her prenatal yoga class and I think I am going to, as long as my doctor is in agreement. I may learn some things from the instructor and I am looking forward to being around other women who are also pregnant."

"That sounds like a good idea," Jackie approved. A thoughtful look came over her face. "You know, if you don't mind hanging out with an old lady, maybe I can help."

"You are _not_ old," Ziva responded reflexively, honestly. Then her curiosity got the best of her. "What do you mean?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert on anyone's kids but my own," Jackie started, "but I have been around the mothering block for over thirteen years. I may have picked up a thing or two."

She smiled gently, letting Ziva know she wasn't being pushy, but that she was perfectly sincere.

"I would give anything to be half the mother you are," Ziva admitted quietly, then avoided Jackie's eyes. She was slightly embarrassed, though she'd spoken nothing but the truth.

"Thank you for that," Jackie responded warmly. "But I am far from perfect. Just ask my kids." Her eyes twinkled with amusement.

Ziva's lips turned up in a small smile.

"What would we do?" she asked the older woman slowly.

Jackie shrugged lightly.

"I'm sure we'll figure it out as we go along."

Ziva's eyes lit up as she considered the idea, then she felt like she might be overstepping her bounds.

"You do not have to –"

"I know," Jackie interrupted her. "I'd love to. Even though my kids are in school most of the day, I still feel like I can go days without talking to another grown-up. And the day I can't use another friend will be the day they're planting me in the ground."

The fact that she saw their friendship as a two-way street warmed Ziva's heart.

Then the older woman's eyes gleamed with inspiration.

"And maybe there's no time like the present to start. Follow me."

_TBC …_


	20. Touching & Feeling

Jackie led Ziva through the house and upstairs to a large, inviting room that held a comfortable love seat, a stuffed chair, a desk and some bookcases. One wall was lined with deep closets.

She walked to one of the closets and pulled down a couple of boxes, then perused the bookshelves and chose a couple of photo albums. She sat on the floor in the midst of everything and invited Ziva to join her.

"So, how much baby experience do you have?" Jackie asked, opening one of the photo albums.

"Not much," Ziva admitted. This time it was her expression that went back in time. "I had a younger sister, Tali. I was six years old when she was born and I helped my mother with her at times, but I was usually more interested in playing what my mother called 'boy games.' We became very close as she got older, though."

She resolutely turned her thoughts from the devastating grief that had come years later when her beloved sister had been ripped from her world.

"I held a baby cousin or two, but I was usually off playing war or competing with my other cousins when our whole family was together – mostly with the boys." Ziva's smile was more than a little wry as she thought back to her "tomboy" self, before her expression turned pensive. "For many years, I was certain I was never meant to be a mother, and now … I cannot imagine anything else, though I am worried I may not be good at it."

She pressed a hand to her middle and absently stroked over it with her thumb as she dropped her gaze.

"But I want to be," she murmured.

Jackie guided them into sitting with their backs against the couch.

"Ziva," she began, waiting until the younger woman returned her gaze. "I have watched you with my children and listened to you talk about your baby. You are already a wonderful parent or you wouldn't be worried about being one and your instincts for mothering are as strong as any I've seen; I think you just have to learn to trust them."

A hopeful, thrilled light slowly brightened Ziva's brown eyes as Jackie's words sunk in.

"That is what Jethro says," she admitted softly.

"I knew he was a smart man the day I watched him marry you." Jackie threw her a wink that made Ziva grin foolishly as her thoughts transported her back to that magical day.

Turning to the book on her lap, Jackie opened the cover of the photo album from when Delilah was born. The first picture was of a younger Jackie in a hospital bed holding a very small, lovely baby girl with sleepy brown eyes and lots of dark curly hair.

"She is beautiful," Ziva breathed. "And so tiny."

Jackie smiled.

"I cannot wait to hold our baby," Ziva shared quietly, "even though I am not normally very … touchy-feely." She glanced up at Jackie with a slight shadow in her eyes. "I am a little worried about that."

"There's nothing wrong with being choosy about who you hug," Jackie offered sagely. "But don't you worry about that with your baby. My guess is you won't want to put him or her down, even though the books say you shouldn't hold them all the time. Hold them all you want." Her expression became warmly direct. "And hear this: you won't be any more perfect than I am or the baby will be, and children are remarkably resilient even when we make mistakes."

She patted Ziva's hand affectionately before she turned a couple more pages and started laughing. Ziva looked at her in inquiry and Jackie pointed to a picture.

Leon was holding baby Delilah with a stricken look on his face. Ziva peered more closely at the picture. Something seemed to be overflowing from the right hand he had under her bottom, splattering his pants on its way to the floor.

Suddenly it clicked – and she paled.

"Is that -?"

Jackie laughed again.

"Mmhmm. Baby poop."

Ziva's eyes widened.

"There is that much?" she asked, dazed.

"Not usually," Jackie informed her, "though sometimes it leaks out of the diaper in all different directions even when it's not a blow-out like that."

Ziva was riveted by the picture the way you are with a car wreck you can't help but stare at.

"Is it always that …" Her fingers moved unconsciously as she tried to find the right word.

"Runny?" Jackie asked.

Ziva nodded.

"For breast-fed babies, that's normal, until they start eating baby food, too." Jackie looked at her. "Are you going to breast feed?"

Ziva looked up at her, a little startled by the question simply because she wasn't used to having anyone but Jethro with whom to talk about these things.

"I … I think I would like to, but we have not talked about that yet," she admitted slowly. "It is best for the baby, yes?"

Jackie nodded. "Usually, though there's nothing wrong with bottle feeding with formula or breast milk or a combination for some or all of the feedings. Whatever works for all of you is what is actually for the best."

She turned her attention back to the picture that had taken their conversation in this direction.

"I thought Leon was going to kill me when I grabbed the camera before I grabbed the towels." Her eyes twinkled at Ziva. "But I couldn't resist."

Ziva couldn't help but laugh.

They went through the rest of the pictures more quickly, then turned to Jared's baby album. Ziva was entranced by the babies as Jackie gave her details here and there.

Inside the boxes Jackie had pulled down were some favorite infant outfits and toys that she just hadn't been able to part with. Ziva held up each little outfit, trying to imagine her baby in them. It was mind-boggling.

Then they got to the books. Ziva loved books and could not wait to read to the baby. She dove into the box with a happy noise that made Jackie smile.

"Are you reading to the baby yet?" she asked.

Ziva looked up at her in surprise.

"No," she responded anxiously. "Should I be? I thought my book said the baby cannot hear until around eighteen weeks."

Jackie squeezed Ziva's hand comfortingly at the alarm edging into the younger woman's expression at the thought that perhaps she'd already screwed this part up.

"There's no 'should' about it except for doing what feels right to you, and eighteen weeks is probably about right for the hearing," she assured Ziva. "I say start whenever you want, if you want to. Do you talk to the baby?"

Ziva blushed lightly, but gave a little nod.

"Of course you do," Jackie approved. "You could read to the baby for the same reason that you already talk to him or her – it's about connection and loving and letting the baby get used to your voice, not about whether the baby can understand the words yet."

Ziva smiled and dipped her head back down to the books.

Jackie took her through some of her personal favorites, with _Goodnight Moon_ and _I'll Love You Forever _topping that list.

The books weren't long and they read through both. Ziva was enthralled.

"And you have to be sure to find the mouse on every page," Jackie said of _Goodnight Moon_ with the voice of experience, pointing out the little gray mouse on a couple of pages.

Ziva reached into the box and pulled out another one.

"_Chatul Taalul_!" she exclaimed. "Tali loved for me to read this one."

"_The Cat in the Hat_," Jackie read from the cover. "Both my kids loved that one, too."

Next out of the box was _The Velveteen Rabbit._ Jackie held it with fond memories.

"Jared loved this one when he was a little older," she said softly. The book fell open to a page that had obviously been well-read. "Especially this part. He's always had a big heart."

She pointed it out to Ziva.

"_Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'_

_'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit._

_'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'_

_'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'_

_'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."_

Ziva dipped her chin until her hair fell forward to hide her face as she felt her chin start to quiver and tears sting her eyes at the very moving passage. Jackie's smile faded when she saw Ziva's hand lift to surreptitiously wipe a tear.

"Hey – you okay?" she asked gently, pulling the curtain of Ziva's hair back to better see her face.

Ziva wouldn't look at her at first, just nodded.

"Oh, now – I didn't mean to make you cry," Jackie pointed out, putting an arm around the younger woman's shoulders.

"I do that a lot these days," Ziva admitted wryly. "I do not really like that part."

"Damn hormones," Jackie commiserated.

Both women chuckled at that, even if Ziva's sound was a little watery.

Ziva stared down at that passage in the book, her fingers tracing gently over the words.

"What are you thinking?" Jackie asked softly, her heart so moved by the emotion coming off Ziva in waves that she nearly cried herself.

She didn't take offense when Ziva just lightly shrugged in response, unable to get the words out.

"You know, if your husband catches us like this, he's going to give me that Gibbs Stare first and ask questions later," she joked affectionately.

"He's not the only one," a deep voice rumbled from the doorway.

Both women looked at the doorway at Leon's observation, Ziva hurriedly wiping at her eyes.

"Busted," Jackie observed in fun, giving Ziva a quick squeeze before removing her arm and drawing the focus of the men to allow Ziva a moment to compose herself.

"Honey," Leon continued pointedly, "I'm pretty sure making the guests cry is on the list of 'Don'ts' in those books you have downstairs on entertaining."

"She did not make me cry," Ziva leapt to her new friend's defense. "It was my –"

"Hormones." The whole group of them chuckled, lightening the mood, when all three of the others joined her on the last word.

"What are you two up to?" Leon asked.

"Baby talk," Jackie revealed. "What are you two up to?"

"Rounding you up for ice cream," Leon answered. "And we'd better get down there because we left the kids in charge of getting everything out. If we take too long, there might not be any left."

Jackie snorted lightly, but got to her feet.

"You mean there _won't _be," she corrected him.

She made her way to the door and caught Gibbs' eye meaningfully. Just because Ziva couldn't talk to Jackie about what had moved her to tears didn't mean she didn't need to tell her husband.

"You two take your time," she ordered casually, "while we get everything set up."

She squeezed Jethro's forearm as she passed by him.

"Save something chocolate for Ziva," he called over his shoulder after them, glad to see his wife smile at his words.

He noticed she didn't contradict him.

When he and Ziva were alone, he walked on into the room and took up Jackie's spot on the floor beside Ziva. Slipping an arm behind her, he pulled her to his chest for a hug and dropped a kiss to her hair. Ziva leaned into him gratefully, relaxing into the embrace.

"You ready to tell me what really made you cry?" Gibbs asked softly after a moment of quiet.

Ziva took a steadying breath and released it slowly, absorbing him into her a little more before she answered.

"This."

She handed him the book she was still holding, opened to Jared's favorite page.

He held the book out about arm's length so he could read the words, glancing at the front cover first. When he was finished, he looked down at his wife with a question in his eyes.

She lifted her left hand from where it was resting on his chest and allowed her fingers to drift lightly over the words again, the rings he'd given her sparkling in the sunlight coming through the window behind them.

"This is how you love me," she husked, then looked up into his blue eyes, her brown ones brimming with all the love she felt for him in return. "You have done this for me."

_Made me real._

Gibbs would have sworn his heart turned over in his chest.

He shook his head with the ghost of a gentle smile.

"That's what you've done for me," he disagreed.

_Made me real again._

She started to correct him because she knew that being loved by Leroy Jethro Gibbs had changed her for the better, had made her … _more _than she'd been – and that it had been far greater than anything she'd done for him. He captured her words with a soft kiss.

When he raised his head, she sank into him and wrapped her left arm across his chest, closing her eyes as she breathed him in.

"Perhaps we have done that for each other," she sighed contentedly.

Jethro's half-smile tugged at his mouth as he laid the book down and wrapped both arms around her. Resting his cheek on her head, he pleased himself with just holding her for a while.

"What do you think of the director's idea about my job?" she eventually asked him quietly. The topic had been on her mind all through lunch and even while talking babies with Jackie.

"Whadda you think?" he asked, dodging the question.

Ziva tipped her head back so she could see into his face.

"I asked you first," she pointed out.

"But it's your job," he countered.

"But it is _our _life together," she said, playing the trump card. "I want to know what you think, how you feel."

He let out a deep, audible sigh.

"Feels like losing a limb not having you at the desk next to me, as part of the team," he admitted. "But, nothing's more important than keeping you and the baby as safe as we can and his idea feels a little safer."

She nodded silently in agreement.

"Jackie asked me if this would be far enough removed from what happened," she shared. Her gaze caught his. "Is it far enough away for you?"

She pressed closer as the shadow in his eyes told her his thoughts had gone back to the day she'd been shot. Then his gaze cleared and he focused on her, smoothing a hand down her hair to soothe himself.

"Don't know," he answered honestly, "but I think it's worth a try. And, it won't feel like you're not there at all."

"That is how I feel, too," she told him. Then, with a banked twinkle, she added, "And I can still legally carry my gun. I really need a job where I can carry my gun."

His characteristic grin tugged at one side of his mouth even though he knew she wasn't really joking.

Her expression lightened a bit as they moved past the tense topics.

"You know, most husbands and wives do not work together. Perhaps this is more … normal."

He snorted.

"Most husbands and wives don't work together as well as we do," he pointed out, the voice of experience. Then he teased her back with a gleam in his eye. "And I'll take you over normal any day."

She laughed and his heart smiled.

"So, we can tell him we will try it?"

Shoving aside his mixed feelings that he was just going to have to live through, he nodded.

"I mean it about no CIA jobs on your own, though," he added firmly. "Don't trust that group as far I can spit."

Then he had another thought.

"And no being in the same room alone with a suspect." The very thought made his blood run cold, especially if he wasn't going to be on the other side of the glass.

"You know, Jethro, I am fairly certain I will be reporting to the Director instead of to you," she pointed out, tongue-in-cheek.

"Ziva –"

She laid a finger over his lips to stop him, a warm, understanding smile on her face.

"I know," she told him. "And I promise."

He relaxed and helped her put the baby things back in the boxes, smiling at her excitement as she showed him things he hadn't seen up close in years. Then, he got to his feet, reaching down to pull her up to hers.

They were headed toward the doorway hand in hand when he broke the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

"So, about that cubicle in MTAC …"

* * *

After all six of them had put quite a dent in the ice cream supply, Gibbs and Ziva talked briefly with Leon about taking the new position, promising to touch base with him after her doctor's appointment tomorrow afternoon. Afterwards, the couple thought it was time to go and leave the Vances to the rest of their Sunday.

Besides, between growing a baby and riding an emotional rollercoaster, Ziva was about ready for a nap.

Before they left, Jackie sent the guys up to get the box of baby books for Gibbs and Ziva to take home.

When the younger woman protested, Jackie brushed it off. "You can bring them back when your own collection has started."

And because it made her happy to think of going through the books again, this time with Jethro – and maybe even reading a few out loud to the baby, a little voice whispered in her heart – Ziva acquiesced with gratitude.

Jackie knew Ziva would enjoy the books, but she also had an ulterior motive for getting the men out of the way for a moment.

"You know, Ziva," Jackie said quietly once they were alone again, laying an affectionate hand on Ziva's shoulder. "We are all still _becoming_."

She intentionally used one of the words from that passage in _The Velveteen Rabbit, _then dipped her chin and caught Ziva's suddenly shy gaze.

"I don't know everything about your life before you came to be here and I don't need to.

"But one thing I do know is that everything you are and everything you will still become have been in here all along." She touched a light fingertip near Ziva's heart. "Maybe you just needed the right place, the right people for all of you to come out."

"Thank you," Ziva whispered, pushing the words past the lump of emotion in her throat.

Then, surprising both of them in the best way possible, she leaned in and hugged the older woman.

Without even hesitating, Jackie hugged her back.

"See? Progress in the 'touchy-feely' department already," she joked affectionately. "Watch it, or soon you'll be hugging everyone."

"Now you are confusing me with Abby," Ziva teased back, a happy twinkle in her eyes as the two women shared a companionable laugh.

* * *

After saying their last goodbyes to Jackie, Leon and the kids, Gibbs and Ziva headed toward his truck, the box of books in his hands. Ziva slipped her sunglasses over her eyes as they walked.

"Jethro?"

"Yeah?" he asked as he stowed the box on the passenger-side floor board and waited for her to climb in and slide over to her spot in the middle next to him.

"When Tony starts a betting pool on how many meetings I will attend for the director before I am ready to knife someone, put two hundred dollars on one."

* * *

_A/N:__ The books described in this chapter are Goodnight Moon_ by Margaret Wise Brown, _I'll Love You Forever_ by Robert Munsch, _The Cat in the Hat_ by Dr. Suess and _T__he Velveteen Rabbit_ by Margery Williams. I highly recommend them. :) Oh, and I was the one in our house who grabbed the camera before the towels - ! ;) Thanks for reading!


	21. Halfway There

_A/N:__ This chapter brings us up to Ziva's twenty-week ultrasound, painting what has transpired between the last chapter and this one in broad stokes, as I like to say. For those of you keeping track - like you, my dear mibel :) - this is the sonogram where they can find out the gender of the baby. =) Initially, this chapter and the next were one long chapter, but I decided to split them up. The next one should go up tomorrow or the next day. THANKS for reading!_

* * *

Ziva sat in a small, out-of-the-way seating area of Bethesda Naval Hospital waiting for her husband - and for Denise, who would always remain their favorite ultrasound technician. Luckily, this particular area had stuffed chairs and loveseats. The full bladder she'd been instructed to bring along to this twenty-week scan would have been even more uncomfortable on a hard plastic seat.

"If they do not come soon," she murmured wryly, softly to the baby, "I will have to go to the bathroom and then drink a lot more water very quickly."

She never went anywhere these days without a large bottle of water, though, so she was prepared if she had to empty and reload.

Ziva snorted to herself. She'd only ever used that phrase in conjunction with her gun before.

How times have changed.

And she wouldn't have changed _that_ for anything.

Their lives had become very different over the last several weeks. Ziva had indeed moved into the position Director Vance had proposed, and, while both she and Jethro missed having her at the desk next to his every day, her new job was a much better fit for her pregnancy. And, it was a different kind of interesting to be out-and-about some, she'd admitted to herself, consulting with various agencies in a variety of ways, some which relied on skills and knowledge she hadn't had much use for in recent years.

She hadn't even knifed anyone yet in the couple of meetings she'd handled in place of Leon, though it had been a close call at the very first one when an insensitive general with more stars on his shoulders than compassion in his soul had muttered something about "acceptable collateral damage" in terms of civilian villagers half a world away while he sat in the insulated comfort of a cushy office in D.C.

The others on Team Gibbs had been disappointed to learn that Ziva would be changing jobs sooner than later, but everyone was glad she'd still be around NCIS, at least sometimes. She was pretty sure the director was still recovering from the exuberant hug bestowed on him by a very happy Abby when she learned of the position he'd created for Ziva.

The night before she'd accepted the new position after getting the okay from her doctors, Ziva had asked Gibbs to consider taking Agent Millin onto the team in her place. She'd pointed out that he had good instincts and deserved to be trained by the best – and there was no one better than Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He'd brushed that off, but had promised to think about it.

Actually, it had already crossed the recesses of his mind, though he played that close to the vest, in typical fashion.

In further support of her suggestion, Ziva had also pointed out to him that this way she wouldn't have to worry about some other woman making a move on her very handsome, very sexy husband when she wasn't around.

He'd taken her mind off that subject by showing her in no uncertain terms that he only wanted her.

The next day in Vance's office, as they'd turned to leave to go break the news to the others, Gibbs had tossed a directive back over his shoulder to his boss.

"_Tell Millin he can have Ziva's desk once we get her stuff moved up here to that broom closet you've got for her."_

_Vance had raised his eyebrows._

"_You wouldn't be trying to tell me how to do my job would you, Agent Gibbs?"_

"_Me? Nah," had been the tongue-in-cheek response._

"_Good – and he already knows."_

_Jethro looked back at Vance to find the other man's eyes gleaming and a smirk on his lips._

"_Go figure. Great minds really do think alike," the director observed sardonically._

_Gibbs' characteristic smile threatened to break out as Ziva fought to hide her own grin._

Tony had started to make the argument that they really should have a female replacement for his partner, but one look at Ziva's face and he'd swallowed those words. Besides, he had other things to worry about – like how to keep Gibbs safe even from himself or face the wrath of a pregnant ninja.

Soon, with very little fanfare, Special Agent Trent Millin was occupying Ziva's desk and was fitting in well with the guys. Tony had a new Probie to tease, but this one was far from gullible and could give as good as he got. That earned him an unspoken respect all the way around and more than a little approval from Gibbs, though he was his usual taciturn self on that front. It also didn't hurt that Millin was a competent, genuinely likable guy.

Tim was quietly supportive as he helped Trent learn the ropes, and so was Tony – when he thought no one was looking. Gibbs and Ziva weren't the only ones in their close-knit group who kept a soft underbelly largely under wraps.

Trent was currently off work for a couple of weeks as Veronica had given birth to their daughter, Deandra Joy, two weeks before, who had taken a week longer than expected to make her appearance. Ziva had tried to talk the baby into sharing her birthday, the twelfth, which Ronnie was certainly all in favor of at that point, but the little girl had held out for her own day. All three of them were doing well, except for some fairly extreme sleep deprivation for the new parents.

Ziva had shifted into working four days per week, and had come to think of Friday as her "mommy day." She often spent at least part of that in the company of Jackie Vance and they'd done everything from shopping to looking through more of Jackie's memories to discussing various points in a couple of parenting books to including Veronica in their little "Moms Club" to engaging in some mommy pampering, such as the pedicures they'd all three had this morning at Jackie's insistence.

In celebration of the big ultrasound day that heralded the fact that Ziva was now halfway through her pregnancy, the older woman had even presented Ziva with her very own copies of _Goodnight Moon, I'll Love You Forever _and _The Velveteen Rabbit_. Jackie had wanted to be the one to give those to Ziva and Jethro, so she hadn't wanted to wait for the baby shower that Abby had already begun planning.

When it had come time to schedule the sonogram, Ziva had asked Dr. Smith about having Denise do it at Bethesda. The doctor had agreed that was a great idea, not only because she knew Denise would love to see them – had, in fact, asked after them more than once – but also because she was more than a certified technician. She was a registered medical diagnostic sonographer who had access to state of the art equipment.

They'd scheduled the scan for three o'clock, when Denise would just be starting out her shift, so they could hopefully avoid having much of a wait. Jethro was coming from work to meet them here. Ziva put aside the magazine she'd been half-heartedly looking through and glanced at her watch again.

He should be here any minute.


	22. It's a - ?

_He should be here any minute._

Just then, she felt a series of movements from the baby and smiled down at her belly.

She _loved_ feeling the baby move.

At about sixteen weeks, she'd thought she was feeling some flutters or bubbles in there, but wasn't sure those were the baby at first. Given how slender she was and how in tune with her body Ziva was, Dr. Smith had assured her that was probably exactly what she'd felt.

By seventeen weeks, Ziva was more certain about what she was feeling … and she'd never, ever forget that night during her eighteenth week when Jethro had been lying next to her in bed, his cheek to her belly as she pressed his hand against the area where she could feel something and he'd felt it, too, for the first time.

In the space of a heartbeat, they'd both been blinking back tears and laughing with joy. Now, it was a nightly ritual for him to lie exactly like that and talk to the baby as he hoped for more of those life-affirming moments.

Ziva smoothed her hand over where she felt the baby moving.

"Are you getting excited to put on a show for your mommy and daddy?" she asked softly, her voice aimed toward her definite belly. "Or perhaps you are worried because Daddy is not here yet."

She smiled as she thought back to another time when _she'd_ been worried Jethro wouldn't make it in time for a big event.

"Have I told you the story yet about waiting and hoping your father would make it home in time for our wedding? It was about a year ago …"

Then she thought about today's date.

"Actually, it was _exactly_ eleven months ago today. He was clear across the country in California, and I will admit I was getting worried. He promised he would be home in time, but it was getting late … and what he was doing was very important."

Her lips curved as she kept her face tilted down toward the baby, still rubbing her tummy soothingly as she sat lost in the memory.

"But then, my phone rang late the night before the wedding and he was coming home."

The happiness and relief she'd felt that night still came through her tone all these months later.

"And what we are doing today … well. I would say this is an even more important event than that. So do not fret, _tinok_; he would not miss this for the world."

"Got that right. Although, I'd say those two things are about even."

Ziva looked up with a bright smile to discover the man she loved leaning against the doorway to the waiting area, watching her. She held her hand out to him and he took it, sitting by her side. He gave her a soft kiss as he rested his hand on their baby bump.

"Hi," she welcomed him, leaning into him for a moment.

"Hi yourself. Restless, huh?" He smiled as he searched for the baby's movements with his own hand.

"Apparently," Ziva agreed. "Or he –"

"Or she –" he interrupted with a grin.

Ziva's lips twitched as he held up his end of the gender pronoun bargain.

"'Or she' has taken up gymnastics," she noted wryly. Then her eyes sparkled with emotion and her voice got a little husky as she admitted, "I cannot _wait_ to find out if we are having a boy or a girl."

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She tilted her head back to look at him.

"You are certain you do not mind finding out now, that you do not wish to be surprised?" she asked once more. She'd already asked that at least twice.

"I'm sure," he promised.

Truth was, he was excited to know, too. He'd been away for a training exercise when Shannon had mailed him a copy of an ultrasound picture of Kelly from about this time, but he hadn't been able to make out much more than the shape of her head and what he thought was her torso. Shannon hadn't wanted to know the gender and he'd wanted whatever she wanted, so there weren't a lot of details. It turned out Kelly hadn't been feeling very cooperative about sharing she was a girl that day, so that was just as well.

Besides, the quality of sonogram images back then left a lot to be desired compared to today's views.

"Here's my favorite couple," a friendly voice said from the doorway.

Both Jethro and Ziva looked up to smile at Denise, who had arrived to get them.

"Hello," Ziva said warmly, rising and walking over to offer a hand to the technician. "How are you?"

"Excellent," the other woman said. "And you look wonderful, though you seem to have gained a little weight since the last time I saw you."

The twinkle in her eye took any possible sting out of the words.

Ziva smiled and patted her bump.

"That is certainly true, I am happy to say."

Denise turned to Jethro and held out her hand to him. As he shook it, she asked with a grin, "And how are you holding up, Dad?"

"Couldn't be better," he answered.

"Glad to hear it," said Denise. She turned her eyes back to Ziva. "I imagine your bladder is about ready for us to get this show on the road."

"You are absolutely right about that," Ziva admitted dryly.

"Let's do this, then." She led them to an inviting, dimly lit room along a quiet corridor nearby. Jethro was carrying their coats and he put them, Ziva's bag and her water bottle on a chair out of the way before helping her up onto the gently reclining exam bed.

"That shoulder giving you any trouble?" Denise asked as Ziva got settled.

The younger woman shook her head.

"Good. Now, I suppose you remember the drill?" Denise asked as she held up the bottle of gel.

"Yes," Ziva responded with a slight grimace. "I also remember that that is cold."

Denise smiled. "True. But before long you'll forget all about that."

"And once again, you are correct," Ziva smiled, pulling up her somewhat-fitted maternity top and pushing down her soft pants to expose her burgeoning belly.

Denise was situated between the bed and the machine, while Jethro stood on the other side of the bed holding onto Ziva's hand. She gripped it a little tighter reflexively when the cold substance hit her abdomen.

"I chose this specific machine as it is set up to record a DVD, as well as take pictures; I figured you might like one."

Ziva's awed _Yes, please_ made her smile.

"Dr. Smith said she was going to try to swing by," Denise shared as took the transducer in hand and prepared to wow them with views of their child, "but I'll make sure she gets the scans if she can't make it."

She touched the wand to Ziva's stomach and moved it around until the unmistakable view of their baby's head was in profile.

Ziva's heart skipped a beat as she and Jethro grinned, beyond thrilled.

"Jethro," she whispered past the lump of emotion in her throat.

Because he didn't have the words to express what he was feeling, he pressed a kiss to her temple and squeezed her fingers with his. She leaned her head against him wordlessly, in response.

She'd gotten the message.

"That is amazing," Ziva breathed. It was truly remarkable how much growth and development there had been since they'd last had a peek in there.

Denise kept moving the wand around, getting a good overall look and pointing out a few things before settling in to take the measurements she needed. She was trained to interpret the grainy images that flashed as she moved the transducer, but it was a little disconcerting to Ziva and Jethro as to how the perspective of view changed almost suddenly from something that looked like a baby to something that could be anything … or nothing … or something extra-terrestrial.

"I'm going to take some measurements of the head, the abdomen and the thigh bone, and we'll snap a few other pictures as we go," the sonographer explained as she worked. "We'll start at the top of the head and work our way down." She turned her gaze to Ziva. "Do you want to know the sex when we get there?"

"Yes, please," Ziva repeated eagerly, not moving her gaze from the monitor.

Denise smiled. She wasn't surprised.

"Well, as long as the little one isn't feeling too shy, that shouldn't be a problem." She moved around, pointing out the head, the upper lip, the spine that looked like bright railroad tracks running along the baby's back because the tissue that was more dense, like bone, showed up as bright white … the dark areas of amniotic fluid … the heart, the kidneys, the bladder … two arms, two hands, two legs, two feet. And, of course, they had to count all ten fingers and all ten toes.

"I do not know how you can tell some of that so quickly," Ziva observed softly. "The hands and the feet look just like themselves, but I had no idea that was an arm until you said it was – oh, look!"

She could see an arm now, as the baby obligingly moved so they could see the hand attached to it, just before tucking the thumb into his or her mouth with a great profile view.

They all chuckled even as they marveled at the miracle of life swimming around in Ziva's tummy.

Denise caught a great shot of the baby with thumb in mouth, as well as a separate unobstructed view of the left hand that clearly showed all five fingers and an awesome, isolated shot of the baby's right foot from the bottom, making it look almost like a footprint.

"Your baby is ten inches long – which is about the length of a banana - and is weighing in at roughly eleven ounces, so that's right on schedule. Now let's measure the abdomen, then we'll see if we can answer the gender question."

She actually already knew the answer, as she'd caught a good look between the legs when she'd jumped to measuring the thigh bone when she had a clear shot, but she was hoping for a better view where the baby's parents could see it, too.

Soon after the tummy measurement was done, the baby rolled over, legs spread, seemingly hanging head down – and there was that good view Denise had been hoping for. Although, given the angle and sudden change of perspective, it wasn't immediately obvious to the untrained eye that the bright lines in a wide V shape were the thigh bones, which might have given them a clue as to what they were now able to see.

"What is that?" Ziva pointed. Then she chuckled a little at her imagination. "It looks like a little turtle. See? With a tiny head peeking out."

Denise bit back a chuckle. "Well, I can guarantee you don't have a turtle in there."

She waited for a moment to see if it would click into place.

"Let me give you a hint," she offered, moving a white arrow around for pointing purposes. "One thigh bone … the other thigh bone … bottom …"

The baby rolled again, which gave them a view from the front. The baby was either growing a very tiny third leg or …

Suddenly, Ziva gasped. "Is that -?"

Denise grinned as both Jethro and Ziva looked on in wide-eyed amazement.

"Yep. Boy parts."

"Boy parts," Ziva said faintly. She looked at her husband, clearly dazed as the reality washed over them both. "Jethro, our baby is a boy. We are having a boy."

Gibbs sat heavily in the chair right behind him, uncertain that his legs would continue to hold him. _A boy. They were having a boy_. And though it didn't really make sense, somehow it all felt even more real just knowing which one of those pronouns to use.

He lifted Ziva's hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss there before grinning at her from ear to ear like a fool.

"A boy," he said, wonder running through his voice. Then his eyes twinkled at her. "Ya know what that means."

Ziva just looked at him cluelessly, still too dazed to catch up with him quickly.

"Your instincts were right on target. Again." Then he added deliberately, "Mom."

Ziva's smile bloomed as she let go a light, deliriously happy laugh.

"I was right!"

She leaned to her side far enough to throw her arms around his neck, and his own arms instinctively wrapped around her.

All three of them were still chuckling when the door opened and a southern drawl asked, "Is this a private party or can anyone join?"

"Dr. Smith – the baby is a boy!" Ziva said enthusiastically in greeting. Then she realized she hadn't even said hello and was a little embarrassed. "Oh, I am sorry. Of course, you are welcome. It is good to see you."

"Good to see you, too," the doctor said with a broad smile. "All of you. And there's no need for apologies – that's pretty exciting stuff."

Denise filled her in on the high points and they reviewed the pictures, measurements and heart rate. The doctor agreed that everything looked great.

Eventually it was time for the appointment to come to a close. It was a bittersweet moment for Ziva and Gibbs to say a goodbye of sorts to the baby – which felt a little ridiculous given that he was with them all the time. Then, Denise handed them a stack of pictures and the DVD of the ultrasound. Knowing they could look at their baby boy as often as they wanted made it easier to stop for now.

After handing Ziva some tissues to clean the gel off her tummy, Denise and Dr. Smith took their leave. The technician told the couple they could take their time gathering themselves to go, as no one else was scheduled in there after them.

When they were alone and Ziva had adjusted her clothing back over her growing middle, Jethro helped her to a sitting position on the bed with her legs dangling over the side. Standing between her legs, he wrapped his arms loosely around her waist and captured her lips in a soft, loving kiss.

"Told you betting against your instincts wasn't smart," he teased her warmly, after lifting his head. Then he bent close to her belly and said, "Sorry I ever called you a 'she,' buddy, but good job on being sneaky for a while."

Ziva laughed as he made good on the promise he'd given her in the middle of the night in a hospital bed eleven weeks ago. Gibbs straightened and grinned at her with a captivating twinkle in those blue eyes.

A wave of love washed over her, warming her from her head to her feet and everywhere in between.

"I hope he has your eyes," she husked, running a gentle finger along his temple and under those eyes.

"I hope he has yours," he returned with a half-smile, but completely serious.

"Are you …" Ziva paused, then pushed ahead. "Disappointed?"

Part of her had wondered if his heart had longed for another little girl. Not as a replacement for his first one, because that could never be true, but … in a way, she would have understood.

He shook his head.

"Not even a little bit." There wasn't an ounce of doubt in his voice.

She smiled and relaxed into him, wrapping her legs around his and her arms around his chest under his sport coat, laying her head on his shoulder.

"I am glad," she whispered.

They just held each other for a while, absorbing the moment.

"We are really having a baby," Ziva sighed happily.

Then, she glanced up at him to see if he thought that was a silly thing to say since they'd known she was expecting for most of the last twenty weeks.

But he just smiled and tipped her chin up to kiss her again before leaning his forehead against hers.

He knew exactly what she meant.

After a bit, they headed out. Ziva had her head buried in the pictures Denise had printed for them, relying on her husband to guide her safely through the halls and out to her car.

"Promise me something, Ziver."

"Mmmm - ?" she hummed distractedly in response without lifting her head.

"Please don't ever tell our son he has a turtle between his legs."

* * *

_tinok = Hebrew word for baby_


	23. Taking Time for Real Life

_A/N: Okay, so this is another one of those chapters that developed itself a little more than I thought it would, but there was nothing I wanted to leave out and no place I really wanted to split it, so hopefully you won't mind another long one. :) You may be surprised to learn that the bulk of this chapter was the very first fan fic writing I ever did. I had no idea at the time that I would ever write and post, and certainly no idea of all that would end up coming before this. THANKS so much for joining me on this wonderful ride and your reviews are greatly appreciated!  
_

* * *

_About two weeks later …_

Ziva left the Department of Homeland Security right at five o'clock on Thursday. She was currently assisting them with some translations in several different languages and her brain was done for the day.

Despite the occasional fatigue, she really was enjoying aspects of her new position as the NCIS consultant to just about anyone who asked. However, Director Vance was choosy about granting his consent, quietly made sure she wasn't overworked, and always made it clear to the other agency that they were lucky to get her on loan.

That would be because they were.

And it didn't hurt in driving up the "remember this when we need a favor" factor.

So far, she'd mostly worked with the FBI and Homeland Security, though she'd consulted with the CIA and others – always with Jethro and Leon at her back with the CIA.

She missed the daily contact with her team and especially missed working with Gibbs, though she had been able to lend a more-than-occasional assist within the office for them and others at NCIS.

And yet, it was also true that, while they'd handled it with remarkably few issues, being married to your supervisor was not without its awkward moments at work and home, especially when he yelled at her like she was one of the guys - because, in that respect, she was.

Truthfully, she did not miss those moments and this was probably better for their relationship in that regard.

However, perhaps the thing she enjoyed most about her new job was slipping back into the leader in her that she'd once worn like a second skin.

She would never regret giving up being one of the highest ranking officers in Mossad for the life she'd come to have in America, but she was a strong woman accustomed to leading and she was enjoying being in a similar role again. While she certainly felt equal to Tony and Tim on their team, she was not the leader. Gibbs was – and was meant to be. She had no issue with that whatsoever and hadn't even realized she'd missed that aspect of working until she had the chance to do it again.

She was only asked to work with another agency when they needed her expertise. That generally put her at the same power level as the highest ranking person in the room. After all, if they didn't need something she could provide for them – if they'd been able to accomplish it without her or someone like her – she wouldn't be there.

And yet, she could and did walk away when a project was concluded – or when someone was being an ass and refused or questioned the very information or suggestions they sought from her - which kept the weight of leadership from being too heavy.

After all, she had bigger things on which to concentrate these days.

Ziva smiled faintly, a little wryly but contentedly, and rested her hand on her slowly expanding belly.

She had not seen Jethro since they'd gone their separate ways to work on Tuesday morning, as his team had caught a case that very day. She missed him, though she understood the work and even envied him for it despite being comfortable in her new position.

She did not feel like cooking for just herself … and it occurred to her that her husband had most likely been living on coffee the last couple of days. That led to wondering if he could take a short dinner break. At the very least, she could drop something off for him – for all of them – to eat, if they were at the office. Pulling her phone from her bag, she pressed the number one speed dial as she walked to the parking structure that housed her car.

Gibbs' phone rang and he looked at the screen, smiling when he saw Ziva's name and picture on the screen, courtesy of Abby.

"Hey, babe," he answered warmly.

He'd replaced his usual "Yeah, Gibbs" with a greeting just for her when no one else was around, which always made her smile. He could hear that smile in her voice as she answered back.

"Hey, yourself," she returned in a low, sexy voice, which prompted that half-smile of his that she loved to tug at one corner of his mouth.

"You leaving work?" he asked, pausing from his perusal of the facts in front of him to glance at his watch.

He was alone at the moment, having sent DiNozzo, McGee and Millin out to beat the bushes again in hopes of catching a break in this case involving a dead naval officer. His gut told him an ex-girlfriend was involved, but so far the leads to anyone were few and far between.

"I am," she answered. "And I was wondering if you had time to eat a quick dinner with your wife, perhaps on a bench in the atrium at NCIS, but it is fine if this is not a good time. I could drop something off for you, if that would be better."

Gibbs paused. Normally, he discouraged his team from breaks like that in the early days of a case, as time was generally of the essence. However, lately he'd realized they all worked better – him included – when they recharged their batteries, especially after a couple of days of going full swing.

Besides, the fact was …

He missed her.

"Actually, break sounds good," he said, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "'specially if it involves you."

He could hear the happiness in her voice as she offered to pick something up on her way to meet him.

"Do you have a taste for anything special?" she asked.

"You."

She released a sexy chuckle. "I think that will have to wait until you get home, although perhaps we can manage a nibble or two, hmmm?"

In her mind's eye, she could see his grin and the twinkle in his eyes.

"I will call you when I get there and perhaps we can meet downstairs?"

"Sounds good. Love you."

"I love you, too."

Ziva placed her phone back in her bag and retrieved her car. There was a Mediterranean restaurant she liked nearby and she decided to get their dinners from there.

She parked in the Visitors Lot at the Navy Yard since she wouldn't likely be here that long, and the atrium where they were going to meet was on the ground floor. The familiar guard waved her on through as she entered the lot.

She called Gibbs and then took the bag with their food from the seat next to her. She was walking up the sidewalk to the front door when her husband walked out to greet her instead of meeting her in the atrium. They both smiled as soon as they saw each other, and moved together in a close, heartfelt hug with her tummy turned to the side so she could get as close to him as possible.

"Hello, stranger," Ziva murmured into his neck, not wanting to move from that spot.

"Hi," he answered, his smile still in evidence.

The hand that had been rubbing the small of her back slid around to press gently against her belly. "How are you? And the baby?"

"Fine. I swear he was kickboxing in there more than once today."

"Like mother, like son," he teased her and they both chuckled.

Gibbs took the bag holding their dinner in one hand and her hand in the other, and they walked back through the doors he'd just come through, saying hello to Officer Martinez who was working the front security desk. They walked around to the back to the heated, glassed-in atrium that did not see a lot of use, especially at this time of day. The numerous windows let in the winter sun that was still shining at the moment, but it would be dusk soon. The discreetly-placed heater kept the room warm despite the chilly mid-December temperature outside. They sat on a bench amongst some tall potted plants, out of the line of sight of anyone who was simply walking by.

He helped her out of her coat and then she turned her attention to the food. While she pulled a container out for each of them, as well as a juice to share, Ziva asked, "Where are the guys?"

"Out trying to find something for us to go on."

She could hear the disgust in his voice that reflected his frustration that the case had stalled.

"Call them and tell them to have something to eat while they are out. You will feel better about taking a break with me."

He opened his mouth to deny it, then closed it without a word and shook his head ruefully.

"Can't get anything by you, can I?"

She smirked and replied, "No, and so it would be best not to try."

Ziva then tucked into her food as he pressed the number two speed dial on his phone.

"Yeah, Boss," Tony answered.

"Got anything?"

"Not yet. Nobody saw anything. Gonna drive by that ex-girlfriend's house again and see if anything shakes out."

"Before you do that, take thirty and grab something to eat. All of ya. Head back if nothing keeps you at the ex's."

"Grab –" Tony repeated. "Are you okay, Boss?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just … you never …" Dinozzo sputtered, not wanting to smack a gift horse upside the head and lose the chance to eat somewhere that didn't involve sitting in his car or at his desk, as it had for the last two and a half days.

Then he had a thought.

"Where are you?" he asked suspiciously, looking around as though expecting to find Gibbs standing right behind him. After all, he _had_ just been moaning about how hungry the smell of that nearby pizza place was making him. It would be just like Gibbs to pop up after a comment like that.

"Where do ya think, DiNozzo? At the Navy Yard," Gibbs answered.

"Huh." Tony wracked his brain, sensing he was missing something. _Hmmm .._. "Is Ziva with you?"

Ziva heard that and couldn't help but grin.

"Busted," she whispered into Gibbs' ear.

"What? I can't tell my team to grab dinner?" Gibbs side-stepped, faking a little irritation for good measure.

"No, Boss. I mean, yes, Boss. I mean …" Tony cleared his throat. "You just usually don't. Boss."

Gibbs held the phone up so Ziva could speak into it.

"Hello, Tony."

"Zee-vah! I knew it!" Tony crowed. "How are ya?"

"I am fine, but I am trying to have a quick dinner of my own with my husband, so we are hanging up now. Say hello to McGee and Trent for me and go eat something. Goodbye."

"Bye," Tony responded. Before he hung up, they heard, "Hey, Probie Squared! You'll never guess …"

Gibbs and Ziva laughed as he put his phone away. He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. She cocked an eyebrow in question, as her mouth was full of falafel.

"You were right."

She smiled in appreciation of the acknowledgment and gestured for him to start eating his shish tawook, his favorite chicken dish from that restaurant. They chatted about her day a bit and about a couple of home things, such as the garbage disposal that just might need replaced.

He asked if she had everything she needed for fixing the Shabbat dinner they had planned for the next night and, with a smile, she said she did. She informed him that Jackie and Ronnie were even coming over during the day to learn to make the challah, the traditional braided bread she and Jethro would have with dinner.

She was absorbing so much from these women who'd become her friends … she was pleased to show them something that they genuinely wanted to learn.

Lately, Gibbs and she had been having some conversations about raising their child as a Jewish American and how to handle holidays such as Hanukkah and Christmas, Passover and Easter. Ziva did not practice her faith in terms of attending synagogue and such any longer – had not done so since losing her mother - but being an Israeli Jew was still an important part of her heritage. Becoming a mother herself was stirring feelings within her that she hadn't quite expected of wanting to share the language of her homeland and some of those teachings and holidays with their child … continuing that cultural connection that had been so important in forging the person she was, while at the same time remaining mindful that their child was a blend of the two of them.

Getting her husband to identify what was important to him, rather than just going along with whatever she wanted, was not easy, though … mostly because he'd closed himself off to any of that long ago. And, honestly, the religious aspect of those particular holidays had never held much meaning for him.

Though his mother had made sure he went to church every Sunday until she got too sick to go, like Ziva, he had not set foot in one since his mother had died. Shannon hadn't been all that interested in continuing her family's tradition of attending church, and once she and Kelly had been taken from him, Gibbs had turned his back on any semblance of faith.

That being said, he was fully supportive of however Ziva wanted to handle religion and the culture in which she'd been raised with their child. While he wasn't likely to convert to Judaism – and she'd never ask or expect him to – he was open to learning more about that side of her and creating traditions that reflected who they were as a family … perhaps a melding of hers, his and theirs.

Mostly hers and theirs. He didn't have much he still clung to … though his wife gently pushed him to remember Christmases, for instance, when he was a child … even more gently, when Kelly was alive … After all, those holidays were also about family and togetherness, no matter the particulars of one's faith or lack thereof.

Were there traditions that brought happy memories to mind, that he hoped to share with their child?

He was slowly opening himself up to figuring that out.

They were currently in the midst of Hanukkah and it had been his idea for her to do a formal Shabbat dinner during this holiday. While he'd given her gifts during Hanukkah every year they'd been together, she'd never made the traditional dinner on any Shabbat during Hanukkah or any other time the way her mother had done every Friday, beginning just before sunset. Given their conversations of late, he'd asked if she would. He wanted to know about that part of her world.

They were still deciding what might work for them long-term along these lines, but it warmed her heart beyond measure that he would ask for this ... and, so, she'd agreed.

"You realize you may not be able to make it home in time for Shabbat, given your case, yes?" Ziva asked with nothing but complete acceptance of that in her tone.

"I'll be there," he asserted confidently.

She dipped her chin and looked at him as if to say _Hello … this is me you are talking to._

His half-smile tipped up one corner of his mouth.

"DiNozzo can handle whatever's going on for one night."

More than that, if needed.

She assured him softly that it would be all right if he needed to work.

He caught her gaze and told her, "Job's not my life anymore, Ziver. I'll be there."

Her smile was almost shy, but the happy light in her eyes went straight to his heart.

She pressed against his side in affectionate appreciation, then changed the subject by asking if he wanted a taste of her falafel and rice.

He answered _Mmm_ as he leaned toward her.

She held her fork up to him with a bite, but he moved her hand to the side and took her mouth in a deep kiss that left her dizzy, though that didn't stop her from kissing him back unreservedly.

At last, he lifted his head.

"Tastes great," he murmured with a devilish gleam in his blue eyes, delighting in the dazed expression in hers. Then he guided her hand back to his mouth and sampled the bite she'd offered. "Food's good, too."

He grinned and she finally got her wits back. Laughing, she shook her head at him.

Putting aside his dinner for a moment, Gibbs held the juice up with a quizzical look that said _This is what we're drinking?_ _Where's the coffee_?

"You have had enough coffee over the past three days, I am sure," Ziva explained knowingly. Jethro grinned as he took a swallow. "Besides, juice or water is better for the baby."

Gibbs handed her the bottle so she could have some and rubbed a hand over her middle, loving the way her bump was showing. Had she grown even in the past two and a half days? Seemed like it.

Just then, he felt the baby kick and he smiled.

"I think he is trying to say 'hi' to his daddy," Ziva chuckled.

"Hi back," he said, aiming his voice toward her stomach. "Glad to see he hasn't forgotten me."

"You are unforgettable, Special Agent Gibbs," his wife informed him, raising her face for another kiss.

He happily obliged.

Ziva took her time finishing her meal, as the digestive process went better if she ate slowly since the baby and her uterus were pushing her internal organs around, but Gibbs ate more quickly. He shared a bit of his chicken with her, then finished up. He leaned back against the bench and laid an arm over her shoulders.

"You sleeping okay?" he asked, rubbing his hand over her upper arm.

"Well enough," she answered with a small smile. "Though I always sleep better with you than without you."

A shadow chased quickly through his eyes.

Ziva laid her nearly-empty container beside her and raised a hand to his face, guiding him to look into her eyes.

"I did not say that so you would feel guilty," she told him clearly. "You have nothing to feel guilty about. I simply want you to know that you are missed when you are not there."

He relaxed and marveled yet again at the way this woman understood him. He covered her hand with his, pressing his cheek into it before turning his head and kissing the palm of her hand. Then, he pulled her closer and rested his other cheek on her hair as he laid their clasped hands on his thigh, hoping to enjoy a few more stolen moments before work called at him too strongly to be ignored.

But, in the quiet, his mind wandered to the puzzle that was his current case.

He released a sigh that didn't even register with him, but Ziva knew part of his attention had returned to work.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly, tipping her head back to look at him.

He shook his head.

"This break was about us," he protested.

"It still is," she smiled.

He let out a frustrated breath. He'd always appreciated the way her mind worked and sometimes they each saw things the other didn't.

"It's like we're dealing with a ghost. Victim was a Navy lieutenant. Died of a slow-acting drug cocktail that put her into a coma on her way into work Tuesday morning; she died several hours later at Bethesda. Abby and Ducky agree the window of time between administration and the effects taking hold could be anywhere from fifteen minutes to two hours. Can't narrow it down more than that. Her fiancé has an ex-girlfriend that the lieutenant had a restraining order out against, but can't find any evidence that she was anywhere near the victim during the last three months, including the time she had to have been injected with the drug.

"So far, no forensics on the victim or at the scene to link this other woman or any other suspect to the crime and no witnesses except those who saw the lieutenant fall to the ground as she was on her way to work in the supply area at the Navy Yard."

"You are sure it was injected?" Ziva asked.

He nodded.

"Ducky found a small puncture wound on the outside of her thigh. Needle was so tiny, lieutenant probably thought it was a bug bite or something, if she felt anything at all."

"She was on her way to work?"

He nodded.

"Where does she live?"

He told her.

"And this ex-girlfriend, where does she live?"

He named a suburb on the other side of town.

"And work?"

"Works nights as a nurse at a research hospital; shift ends at 7am. Says she was home having breakfast and getting ready to do some errands at the time of the murder before going to bed for a while and it looked like we woke her up when we showed up that afternoon to interview her. So far, the errands pan out."

"But there was possibly a fairly long window of time before the drug actually took effect …" Ziva mused.

"Yeah."

Which was part of the problem.

"Where is the hospital where she works?"

He told her.

Ziva's brow furrowed as she turned the information around in her head.

"How did the lieutenant get to work? Did she drive?"

He shook his head. "Metro."

An _aha _light went on in Ziva's eyes.

"Jethro, I am fairly certain those women could have been on the same train as the ex was leaving work and the victim was going to work, though the ex would also have had to transfer down the line."

She could see the wheels turning in his own mind.

"Suspect usually drives to work, she says; does have a parking pass for the hospital."

"But perhaps she did not drive on Tuesday," Ziva offered. "It is worth considering."

He looked at her with approval and more than a little admiration. "How come I didn't think of that?"

She smiled.

"You would have – it just had not come to mind yet because you have not had to use the Metro system much, but that is how I got around for a long while when I first moved here," she reminded him. "I still like to use it at times to avoid driving in traffic that does not move."

Her tone of voice communicated quite clearly what she thought about _that_.

Gibbs pulled out his phone and called DiNozzo, putting the guys on following up on Ziva's idea, and then he tucked his phone back into his inside jacket pocket.

"God, I miss working with you, Ziver," he admitted with feeling, his lips against her temple.

"I miss it, too," she shared, "though I would not change either reason for why I am not."

He looked at her with slight puzzlement.

Placing his hand once more over where their child was growing, he said, "I get reason number one. What's reason number two?"

Ziva looked up at him with a smile that was somehow full of secrets and clarity at the same time. She cupped his cheek, pulling his mouth to hers for a slow, deep kiss that rocked him to his toes.

There was heat, but more, there was love.

Always love.

At last, she pulled back a little and gazed into those brilliant blue eyes that she sincerely wished would one day fairly soon be looking up at her from their son's face.

"Reason number two," she murmured seductively. "And not necessarily in that order."

He leaned his forehead against hers, barely able to form a coherent sentence for a moment.

"Oh, yeah," he said faintly. "That."

The depth of feeling in his voice belied the casualness of his words.

They held onto each other for a short while, just enjoying their closeness in the quiet.

"Now, we had better get you back to work," Ziva said with a faint curve to her lips, hiding the regret in her voice, "or the next time I call, you will not say yes."

Gibbs smiled and dropped a kiss to her head. "I'll say yes every time I can when you're doing the asking."

She held those words to her heart as he got up to dispose of their trash in the nearest garbage can, returning to take her hand and gently tug her up from the bench.

"You going down to see Abby?" he asked as he held her coat for her.

She shook her head, slipping her arms in and adjusting the cloth as far over her middle as she could.

"Not today."

He looked at her in surprise.

"This time was just about us," she revealed softly, looking at him with love in her eyes.

He threw an arm around her shoulders as she slipped hers around his waist.

"Come on, walk you to your car."

They headed out of the building toward the parking lot in silence until he broke it.

"Thanks for the visit," he said quietly, warmly. "Needed it."

"I knew you had been living on coffee and needed real food," Ziva teased him lightly.

Gibbs stopped in a grove of trees just off the sidewalk near the Visitor's Lot and pulled her to him with a shake of his head.

"Not the food. Needed you." He raised both hands to hold her head, communicating his feelings through his voice, his gaze.

Ziva looked at him with eyes full of love and gratitude.

He bent his head and kissed her, unmindful of who might see. She couldn't help but wrap her arms around him and respond fully, pressing as close to him as her bump would allow.

Eventually, they pulled apart. He dropped a kiss to one cheek, then to the other, then to her nose, her forehead. The smile she gave him would stay in his mind's eye, getting him through until he saw her again. They finished the walk to her car and he helped her inside.

"Be careful," he said through the window she'd rolled down to remain in contact with him a little longer.

"You, too. Come home when you can," she requested softly, lovingly. "We will be waiting for you."

"Count on it," he told her. "Love you."

"We love you back."

After another brief kiss through the car window, he watched her drive away, not missing the way the guard's eyes continued to follow her car, as well.

_Can't blame the guy for that _he thought. _I'm one lucky bastard._

He went back into the building with a renewed energy that had been missing earlier and with even stronger determination to get this case put to bed so he could get home to his family.

To his life.


End file.
